The New Guy
by Glory Alchemist
Summary: A clone sergeant takes an instant dislike to a new medic. But is there more to this new clone than meets the eye?
1. Chapter 1

**This story is about my OC Fib. He's a medic, and his name comes from the word defibrillator, a machine used to restart someone's heart. All the characters are mine, but I do not own Star Wars.**

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><p>Shades was never sure how to feel about new arrivals.<p>

Part of him saw them as brothers down on their luck, men like him who were desperately in need of a second chance. Renegade Company only ever took clones that other generals didn't want and gave them a home. But another part of him could only see them as the ones who were taking his dead brothers' places. And that part of him resented them for it.

The new troopers stood at attention in front of him and General Nyine. There were five of them, each with a different paint scheme on his armor, denoting the variety of companies and units that these men came from. Edi stepped forward and put her hands on her hips, smiling reassuringly.

"All right, boys. I'm General Edrasi Nyine, and this is Sergeant Shades," she indicated the clone standing at parade rest next to her. "Welcome to Renegade Company. Please give me your names and specialties."

"Sir, my name's Heat, and I do demolitions."

"Name's Ven, sir. Combat engineer."

"I'm Dumpster and I'm a sharpshooter, sir."

"My brothers call me Jump, and I'm pretty good at reconnaissance, sir."

"Fib. Medic…sir."

Shades's eyes narrowed, focusing in on the last clone in line, the one with the blue medic's symbol painted on his chest plate. He didn't like the guy's tone. It was clipped, abrasive, almost…rude. He didn't like the way he paused before saying _sir_, like it was just an afterthought. Shades scowled behind his helmet. He didn't like the guy at all.

If Edi noticed his tone, she didn't show it. She just nodded in approval. "We've got a wide range of skill sets here. That's good. Okay, boys, Sergeant Shades will show you to your bunks. If you need anything, anything at all, feel free to come find me. Fib, if you'll come with me, I'll show you where the _Starlight_'s medbay is."

All the troopers snapped to attention. "Yes, sir!" they said in perfect unison. Heat, Ven, Dumpster, and Jump fell in behind Shades, and Fib peeled off to follow Edi out of the room. Shades watched them in his HUD until they turned a corner, then quickened his pace down the hall, forcing the others into a light jog. He wanted to get this done with and get back to Edi. He didn't like the idea of her being alone with Fib.

Once he'd dropped the new troops off at their bunks, he headed straight for the medbay. The door slid open and he stepped in, scanning the room. Edi was sitting in a chair, one foot stretched out in front of her, rapped neatly in an ace bandage. Fib stood in front of her, helmet off and arms crossed over his chest. His hair was a bright, shocking red and he had a displeased scowl on his face.

"I won't stand for this, General. You may be my CO, but I'm in charge where physical wellbeing is concerned. If you are injured, be it a sprained ankle or a blaster shot to the chest, you'll come see me _immediately_. No crying it off, no brainless heroics. That's stupid and selfish. I have a job to do, I'm going to do it, and I'm not going to let your selfish desire to seem less important than you are get in my way. Do I make myself clear?"

Stunned silent, Edi nodded.

Anger bubbled up inside Shades as he stomped forward and grabbed the medic by the shoulder, yanking him around.

"What do you think you're doing?" he demanded.

Fib glared at him, then flicked his eyes over Shades, as if assessing him for injury. The clone sergeant could _feel_ the medic's eyes on him, running over his body, and his face heated up inside his helmet.

"Just letting the General know the score. You're not injured, so get out of my medbay. You to, General." With that, Fib turned his back on them and began going through the cupboards and storage containers, taking note of supplies.

Shades was at a complete loss of what to do, but he was quickly leaning toward some sort of physical altercation. That clone had no right to speak to Edi like that. Said Jedi caught Shades by the shoulder and steered him out into the hall.

"Let it go, Shades. It's okay. He didn't mean any harm."

"He was way out of line," Shades growled. "He shouldn't talk to you like you're some incompetent fool. He doesn't even know you. And when did you hurt your ankle?"

Edi winced. "Sometime during the last engagement. I wrapped it myself, but I guess I didn't do it very well. He noticed right away." She wiggled her ankle experimentally. "He did a good job, too. It doesn't hurt anymore."

"Yeah, well," Shades muttered. "He'd better just watch himself, because I sure will."

No, he didn't like Fib at all.

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><p>True to his word, Shades watched Fib closely. He didn't miss much.<p>

Fib was a loner. He didn't hang out with anyone, and he didn't let anyone close. He almost seemed to go out of his way to push people away from him. He was blunt, almost to the point of rudeness, even with his superiors. He was just plain antisocial.

_It's amazing he even made it off Kamino. No wonder he ended up with us. What general would want him?_ But Shades saw other things, too.

Fib was an amazing medic. He saved men that no one else would have even bothered with. Renegade's fatality rates fell considerably. He devoted himself completely to each patient. He seemed to know instinctively where they hurt, even before they did, and how to fix it.

_All right, I can see why the Kaminoans kept him around. He's an investment._

Despite all of this, Shades couldn't bring himself to like the medic. First impressions were everything for him, and his first impression of Fib was one of disrespect and arrogance.

When a clone soldier died, there was almost always a brother there to cry for him. Most medics tried to offer some comfort to the grief-stricken men. Shades had seen Gear do it hundreds of times.

Fib never did.

It was after the Second Battle of Geonosis that things came to a head. Shades had been in the medbay having his shoulder treated by an MD for a minor blaster burn, when he heard quiet sobs. Nex crouched over Slingshot, crying over his brother's body. Fib had just left the bed and was headed to the next without so much as a backward glance.

Nex's tears, Slingshot's dead body, Fib's indifference; it all crowded inside Shades's head, pressing on the backs of his eyes. The pain, the anger, the fear; they had built up inside him for so long, and now they had a target.

Surging to his feet, the enraged clone stepped in front of the medic and gave him a hard shove in the chest. Fib stumbled before regaining his footing and glaring at Shades. "What's your problem?"

"What's _my_ problem? Oh, that's rich coming from you," Shades growled. "Slingshot just _died_. Nex is heartbroken. Aren't you going to do something? Aren't you at least going to try?"

Fib looked him straight in the eye. "There's no point."

Shades's fists curled, and he didn't try to hold himself back. This man made him _sick_. His fist struck Fib a glancing blow to his jaw, snapping his head back and sending him into the wall.

"You don't feel _anything_!" he screamed. All the anger and bitterness he'd ever felt about a galaxy that used clones and threw them away came out now, all directed at Fib. "You don't know what it's like to love someone and lose them! You've never loved anyone!"

Silence fell in the medbay; even the droids stopped their work. The tension hummed, thick and heavy, as everyone waited to see how the medic would respond.

Fib laughed at him.

It was the only sound in the room, and it filled it. The laughter echoed in Shades's ears, in his head, in his very blood.

It sounded horribly broken…and very alone.

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><p><strong>Please review.<strong>

**mad'ika**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you everyone for your reviews. **

**I dio not own Star Wars.**

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><p>"Okay, who started this?"<p>

Captain Thorn looked between the two troopers standing at attention in front of him. Both wore cold, blank expressions. To most people they would have looked completely identical, but Thorn was a clone and adept at reading the subtle nuances behind his brothers' similar expressions. Shades was as close to glowering as a man could come without actually doing it, his anger and disgust plane on his face. While that was troubling, it was Fib that had the captain worried. The medic was cold and impassive, his face closed. The only sign of his fight with Shades was the blossoming bruise on his chin. What Thorn found particularly worrisome was the fact that he couldn't guess what Fib was thinking. He'd always been the best of his brothers when it came to reading people, one of the main reasons he'd been made a captain. So the fact that he couldn't read Fib concerned him deeply.

Neither clone showed any inclination to talk, so Thorn glanced down at his data pad, the screen of which displayed a summery of the incident. "'CT-6986,'" he glanced at Shades, "'displayed physical aggression towards CT-5991/2787. Confrontational dialog was exchanged, resulting in a physical altercation.' In other words, you two had a fight. So what I want to know is _who started it?_"

Both clones remained silent.

Thorn suppressed a sigh and turned to the sergeant. "This isn't looking good for you, Shades. From the sound of the report, you started this, and this wouldn't be the first incident in your file. I can put up with a lot of _osik_, and General Nyine is even more tolerant, but there comes a point where we can't let it slide anymore. You're walking on a knife edge here, son, and one more-"

"He wasn't to blame."

Thorn looked in surprise at Fib. Shades's face showed clearly his own shock and suspicion. The medic's face remained impassive, with no hint to show that he'd noticed either clone's surprise. Thorn's brow furrowed, frustration churning in his stomach at his inability to read this man.

"All right, Fib," he said at last. "If Shades didn't start it, then who did?"

"No one, sir."

"I find that hard to believe. Someone started it."

"You weren't listening, sir. I didn't say he didn't start it, I said he wasn't _to blame_. It's not his fault."

Thorn resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. Fib had made it clear from day one that he had no problem talking back to his superiors. the captain had been tempted more than once to smack the medic and stick him on a charge for insubordination. He'd gotten as far as filling out the flimsy work, but General Nyine had stopped him. For some reason incomprehensible to Thorn, Edi actually seemed to like the medic. Maybe it was a Jedi thing. But Thorn had learned one thing about Fib: he might have been rude, even insubordinate, but the man wasn't stupid.

"Would you care to explain your reasoning?"

"Everyone's been under stress. The whole war is putting pressure on the GAR, both JedI and clone officers. Even the noncoms and regular troopers are feeling it. Every being has a breaking point, a point at which they simply can't deal with the load of _osik_ that the galaxy's dumped on them." Now Fib looked Thorn in the eye. "Are you going to punish a man for being an irrational, imperfect, feeling being?"

Silence descended on the small office. No one shifted, no one licked their lips, no one even seemed to breathe. Thorn found that he had to look away from Fib. He couldn't meet his gaze; his eyes were too hard, too bright, too… penetrating. He saw too much.

Thorn coughed, moving around to stand behind his desk and shuffle some flimsies. "No," he said finally. The captain suddenly felt immeasurably tired. Fib was right, he couldn't punish Shades for caving under the stress and pain. Thorn knew all too well how he felt. Yes, Fib was right, but there was no way he would acknowledge the fact out loud.

"Sergeant Shades."

"Sir." The man snapped to attention, seemingly startled out of a trance.

"I'll put this incident down to nerves and stress. The report will go in your file, but I'm not going to pursue any disciplinary action. This time. If something like this happens again, I'll be forced to take action. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. You're dismissed." As both clones turned to go, he held up a restraining hand. "Fib, you stay."

The medic paused, then turned back to stand in front of the captain's desk. The door closed behind Shades with a soft _chuck_.

Thorn settled himself in his desk chair. Usually he wouldn't sit while one of his brothers was left standing, but he suddenly felt so tired that he wasn't sure if his legs would hold him. He regarded the medic in silence. Fib returned his stare, eyes running over him like a medical scanner. Thorn made sure to sit upright in his chair and show no signs of the headache that was building in his temples. If there was one thing he was better at than reading his brothers, it was hiding his own discomfort. Not even his closest brother, Lieutenant Shmolt, could tell when he was in pain. It as a useful skill. General Nyine was the only one who could see past the act, and she was a Jedi. She had the Force.

"You've been with Renegade Company for three months now," Thorn said finally. "This is the first time you've actually gotten in trouble, though I've received several complaints that you're rude and out-of-line. I've also heard that you're an amazing medic who saves more than half of the men you treat." He eyed Fib and folded his hands across his stomach. "What I haven't heard is that you've made any friends. I don't know if there are even people you're sociable with. You eat meals alone and spend the rest of the time cooped up in the medbay. That's not healthy, Fib."

The two stared at each other.

"Is this supposed to be some sort of intervention?" Fib asked. "Because I don't need it. I like eating by myself, and I like spending time alone. I don't have any friends because I don't want any." He suddenly shifted, breaking eye contact, and stared at the flimsies on Thorn's desk without really seeing them. "It's better that way."

Thorn's eyebrows furrowed, and he leaned forward, hands coming to rest on his knees. This was the first gap he'd seen in Fib's armor since the man had joined Renegade. He caught just the barest glimpse of something under the brash rudeness, something painful and immensely sad. Then before he could glimpse anything else, or even understand what he'd seen, the gap closed, and the armor was sealed again, tighter than ever.

Fib looked at him, once more impassive, only the faintest irritation showing. "Are we done, sir?"

Thorn suppressed another sigh and pursed his lips.

Fib suddenly cocked his head, eyes narrowed, then stepped around the desk to press a warm hand to the startled captain's forehead. "You've got a headache." His voice had changed from passive blandness to its more usual grumble. "Sir, next time you get a headache, _tell_ me. I don't care if you feel that showing weakness is unbecoming. Not telling your medic is stupid, and I'll notice anyway. Migraines never helped anyone work better."

Keeping one hand pressed to Thorn's forehead, Fib reached in to the standard issue gray medical bag that he carried with him at all times and pulled out a hypo. He pressed it to the captain's neck, releasing it with a soft _hiss_. Thorn was very aware of the other man's hand on his forehead, the thumb stroking the skin subtly. Thorn blushed at the odd intimacy of the small contact.

Fib stepped back, restoring some professional distance. He seemed oddly pleased, the happiest he ever seemed to get.

Thorn was shocked. He'd been certain that he was showing no signs of physical discomfort. He'd bet his life on it. And yet Fib had seen it and treated him. He'd even known the captain had a headache. But how did he know?

"May I go now?"

Thorn nodded absently, even forgetting to reprimand the medic for failing to call him _sir_. The office door slid shut, leaving the captain alone with his thoughts. He sat in stunned consternation, then got up and began filing away the flimsies scattered across his desk. He'd just closed the file drawer when he became aware of a conspicuous lack of something. Thorn pressed a hand to his forehead in mild surprise. Fib must have given him something different than the usual pain meds. It usually took at least half an hour before he'd notice any affect. Well, whatever Fib had given him had done the job in record time. His headache was gone, as well as the stiffness he'd been feeling in his neck and shoulders.

He didn't hurt anymore.

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><p>Shades was confused. He didn't do confused well.<p>

_Why would that jerk tell the captain it wasn't my fault? What's he playing at?_ But even Shades had to admit that it wasn't likely that Fib was messing with him or playing some game. Yes, he was a jerk, but he wasn't the kind of person who enjoyed manipulating others. He was blunt, brutally honest, and not above telling his COs when they were being idiots. No, Fib wasn't messing with him. And that was what had Shades confused.

_I'll think better on a full stomach._

The _Starlight_'s mess hall wasn't very crowded. Just a few clones sitting in twos and threes scattered about the tables, talking quietly. Their conversations filled the room with a low _hum_ that was oddly soothing. Shades went through the line quickly-there wasn't much variety in the food-and headed for a small knot of brothers sitting on the far side of the room. A familiar figure caught his eye.

Fib was sitting at his usual table, alone. The bruise on his chin was turning an impressive purple. He was chewing his food with great care.

_Don't look at him, don't talk to him. Just keep walking._

Shades was proud of his self-control. He almost made it, too.

"You know, you were wrong."

_Don't look at him. Don't talk to him._

"About what you said in the medbay."

_Just keep walking._

"You really think that I don't feel anything?"

He was lost.

"Yeah, I really think you don't." Shades turned to face the other clone, tray braced on his hip. Fib was looking at him. His head was tilted to the side, as though he was reading a particularly fascinating medical journal.

"Why d'you think that?"

Shades rolled his eyes. "Oh, please. Do you really have to ask? You're the only medic I've ever seen who doesn't do a thing to help his patients' brothers when they've died. You just leave them and go on to the next like nothing's happened. You don't care about those men and what they're going through! You can't even seem to relate. So, yeah, I don't think you can feel." He glared at Fib, panting slightly. Just talking to the guy got him riled up.

Fib snorted. A smile tugged at his lips, but there was no mirth in it. His eyes remained cold.

"Wrong again. I do feel, more than I want to." He looked up at Shades through his eyelashes. "I feel that I make you angry. I feel that you're confused about why I stood up for you with the captain. I feel that your right ankle still gives you trouble in cold climates, even after you had that surgery to fix it five months ago. I feel that you feel personally responsible for every clone that's killed on your watch, even if you know that you can't save them all. I feel that you hate the Republic for using us, but you also feel guilty because we're supposed to be defending it."

Shades stood frozen, pinned to the spot like a bug on a card by Fib's gaze.

"You have so much anger in you, but you don't know who you're angry at, or even what you're angry about. And that scares you, because you think that there's something wrong with you, something deep down that even the Kaminoans couldn't find. You think you're broken." Fib snorted, looked down at his plate. "You're not broken. You're battered and dented and definitely not a pretty sight, but you're not broken." Then, in a much quieter voice, "I know broken."

Even after Fib looked away, Shades couldn't move. It was down right unnerving, hearing an almost total stranger tell him his most guarded suspicions and fears. It left him shaken and uncertain, yet oddly… relieved. It seemed that a part of him believed that if this man that he barely knew, yet made no secret of hating, could look at him, know so much about him, even the darkest places, and yet say that he wasn't broken, then maybe there was a possibility that it was true. It gave him hope, something he hadn't had for a long time.

He never would have expected to get it from Fib.

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><p><strong>Please review.<strong>

**mad'ika**


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry about the long wait. This chapter got a little longer than I intended, so I had to cut some of it off. Sorry about that, too. Please enjoy.**

**I do not own Star Wars.**

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><p>The war carried on. Conflicts flared, briefly igniting planets and systems with bright light, only to die out again, leaving only darkness behind.<p>

The _Starlight_ was diverted to the heavily forested planet of Voss to aid the local guerillas in routing the Separatist forces.

Shades was of two minds about trees. They could be very useful, serving both as cover from enemy fire and useful tools in ambushes. On the other hand, the enemy could just as easily use them for the exact same purposes. Trees weren't exactly picky about who was using them for cover.

Bark exploded uncomfortably close to Shades's head. Kriffing commando droids.

"Hey, you moron, get down. Do you want a hole blown in your head? Because that's something I can't fix." The irritated voice issued from his helmet com.

Shades suppressed a surge of irritation, though he couldn't silence a soft growl of annoyance. Kriffing medic.

He scrambled back on his hands and knees, then ran at a crouch to duck behind the ruins of an old stone wall. Fib was hunkered down there, craning his head to try and get a sighting of the droids.

"No use," Shades grunted. "Even if you could find them, the foliage is too thick to get a shot through."

Fib grunted and, predictably, ignored the sergeant. He shifted position onto his left knee, reached into his ever present medical bag, and pulled out a sniper attachment for his rifle, one usually used by Republic commandos. Shades stared at it in blank shock. "Where did you get _that_?"

Fib didn't answer, simply attached it to his DC and sighted down the scope.

Shades reached for the rifle. "Here, let me-" He yanked his hand back in shock when Fib smacked it away.

"I'd better do it. This needs to happen right the first time."

"Are you saying that I couldn't hit a target?" Shades bristled. "I'm the more qualified shot. You're a medic."

"Is this really the time? Shut up, I'm trying to get a sighting."

Shades valiantly suppressed the urge to smack the upstart medic soundly on his helmeted head. See if he could treat _himself_ for a concussion. He watched in grim silence as Fib stared through the slope, panning slowly from left to right.

"A little to the left," he muttered.

"I see it."

Fib's finger tightened on the trigger. A second later, there was a metallic _clang_ followed by a thud as a commando droid dropped from the lower branches of a tree. Fib swung quickly to the right and fired again. He did this three more times, all in quick succession. Three commando droids hit the ground.

"I thought you were trained as a medic."

"I had the same basic training as you. That included sharp shooting."

"I've never seen anyone that accurate. Not even Scope, and he's a trained sniper."

"Well, maybe I'm just better."

"Shut up." Shades switched com channels. "Lieutenant Shmolt, this is Sergeant Shades. We've cleared our sector, all hostile targets accounted for."

A harried voice answered him. "Copy that, sergeant. You'd better get your _shebse_ back here real quick if you don't want to get left behind. Just received word from the captain, the general wants to regroup on the other side of Hunders Ridge, a good fifteen clicks east of here."

"Yes, sir, we'll be there."

"You'd better be." The com went dead.

Shades rolled his eyes. Shmolt was a good officer, but he was also the most up-tight man the sergeant had ever met. He liked to follow orders to the letter and didn't handle it well when he thought his authority was being questioned. Shades sometimes wondered how the guy managed to walk with a stick shoved so far up his _shebs_.

He thumped Fib's helmet to get his attention. "Time to regroup."

"What's the plan?"

"We're meeting up with General Nyine and the rest of the strike force on the other side of Hunders Ridge."

Fib snorted. "Oh, that will make for a fun walk in the park."

"Stop whining."

"Who's whining?"

"You, _dikut_."

The two traded shoves as they plodded in the direction of Shmolt's com signal. They arrived to find the place in a flurry of activity, with an agitated Lieutenant Shmolt in the middle of it. A scowl appeared on the man's face when he caught sight of the two clones. "You two are the last in. what were you doing, sightseeing?"

"Why, _yes, sir,_" said Fib, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Voss is a lovely place this time of year, what with the commando droids being in season."

Shmolt's face darkened. "Are you being smart with me, medic?"

"Well, I figure someone has to be, sir."

Shades groaned internally. What was the idiot doing? For someone who was so smart, Fib could do some pretty stupid things, like mouth off to an officer who really didn't like him. "We'll take point," he said, shoving fib in the back hard enough to nearly make him fall. Luckily Shmolt was diverted just then by another clone.

"Shut up all ready," Shades growled. "He already has a problem with you, and then you go spouting your big mouth off. You've got to be the dumbest smart person I know."

Eventually everything was organized and everyone formed up. Fib and Shades fell in at the front to take point, and the entire group began the long trek to the rendezvous sight. It was a long hike over hilly, heavily forested country. By the time Hunders ridge was in sight, Shades had developed a healthy dislike of trees. Fib was mercifully silent for most of the trek, they didn't run into any Sep scouting parties, and Shades had plenty of time to think.

He wasn't sure where he and Fib stood now. Over the past two weeks, their relationship seemed to be undergoing an awkward metamorphosis. The sergeant would sometimes join the medic in the mess hall for a meal, or Fib would stand with him when he was on late night watch. They didn't talk much, and when they did the conversation was mostly comprised of insults. Neither ever mentioned the talk they'd had in the mess hall or the fight that led to it. Shades would never go so far as to think they were friends, but… he had to admit that he didn't hate Fib.

"Grenades incoming!"

The shout came from the left, from a member of the general's unit. Then a tree not six meters away from Shades went up in a ball of flames and smoke. The sergeant dove for cover, his mind racing. _Where did the Seps come from? Where did the general come from? We were supposed to meet on the _other_ side of the ridge_. Then there was no more time for thought, only smoke, shouts, red and blue streaks of blaster fire, and the familiar, desperate scramble to stay a fingers width ahead of death.

Shades felt the heat of a blaster bolt as it passed within centimeters of his unprotected neck. Why didn't their armor have a collar to prevent things like that, or just old fashioned decapitation? He was rather fond of his head. Shades tried to pull back and get an accurate idea of the battle field, some way to come up with a plan that would decimate the tinnies while leaving the clones relatively unscathed. But there was too much movement—no one had held formation—and the kriffing trees were obscuring his line of sight.

So he did what he'd been drilled to do without thinking since he was two years old. He _fought_.

Shades ran, some other clones matching his pace and firing a blue stream into the droid line that had suddenly become visible through the undergrowth. SBDs, not commandos. That was a relief. No one was using the shoulder mounted grenade launcher, which would have come in useful right now.

For a slow-motion moment Shades reasoned: using the heavier fire power in this limited environment would cause heavy troop casualties. His mouth was dry, his heart pounding so fast that he could hardly distinguish between the beats, and yet he could stop the chrono to think these odd things.

He resumed firing. He held his finger tight on the trigger until the DC died in his hands.

"Whoa, tinnies breaking _this way_—"

"Pull back. Pull back, vape it!"

Shades's focus narrowed. He no longer saw the five men around him except as white blurs. The lead battle droid overran their position and he simply swung the dead rifle in an adrenalin-driven arc right up into the thing's chest, smashing the alloy and sending the droid's sunken head assembly flying into the air.

He was suddenly aware of a blue energy blade behind the next droid, then Edi was slicing through it with one sure stroke. Then Shades was falling backwards from the shockwave of a nearby explosion. Edi summersaulted over the heads of more droids and cut them down before they'd even realized she was there. Her black hair had come loose from its tight braid and flew wildly about her pale face. Her dark blue—almost black—eyes were alight with a fierce enjoyment. She was the only Jedi Shades had ever seen that seemed to revel in combat.

Shades struggled to disentangle himself from the nest of ferns and vines he'd fallen into. There was a blur of movement above him, and then Fib leapt over him, rifle spitting a steady stream of blue fire. The medic had lost his helmet somewhere and his hair stood out like a beacon. He landed crouched, then darted sideways, moving into a position to flank the droids from the right.

From his prone position on the ground, Shades saw the commando droid crouched in the tree. But Fib's back was to it; he couldn't see it. Shades screamed a warning, but the medic couldn't hear him over the sounds of the battle.

The droid fired.

Edi came out of nowhere. Her smaller body cannoned into Fib's armored one, knocking him to the ground. There was a spray of red.

With a snarl, Shades ejected his gauntlet vibroblade and sliced through the vines that had entrapped him. They severed easily and he was up, pelting in the direction of his general's body, which was still spread over Fib's as if trying to offer protection.

Another shot from the sniper commando shaved the top of his helmet and hit a clone behind him. Shades cursed and flattened himself next to his dead brother. He recognized the man by his armor: Nex. He didn't have time to feel sorrow or guilt, though he knew this would plague him when he closed his eyes to sleep. Shades grabbed his brother's half-charged rifle and twisted around on his back. He had a clear shot at the droid, and he took it. The commando toppled from the tree.

Shades scrambled back to his feet and looked around for Edi and Fib. They were nowhere in sight. He sprinted to the nearest tree and rounded it to find Edi leaning against the trunk and Fib crouched in front of her. The Jedi wore a grimace, her hand pressed to her side. Fib was running his medical scanner over her. A light flashed green on the screen and he shoved it into his medical bag, his hand reemerging with bandages and bacta spray.

"It's just a flesh wound," he muttered as he began to bandage Edi's side. His usually sure hands trembled, and he had to pause before completing his work.

Shades dropped to his knees beside his general, relief flooding his system. He shakily took one of her hands in his and she gave him a reassuring smile.

"I'm all right, Shades. Really."

"That was a reckless move," he muttered, though he couldn't bring himself to give her a thorough scolding just then. Captain Thorn could handle that when they were all safely back aboard the _Starlight_.

"That was stupid."

They both looked at Fib in surprise, not because the comment was out of character—which it wasn't—but because of the unusual tremor in his voice. Hi knelt on the thick grass, staring fixedly at his knees, clenching and unclenching his hands. "You shouldn't have thrown yourself in the way like that."

Edi's eyes sharpened and she sat up straighter, responding to something that only she could feel. "And what should I have done, Fib? Just stayed out of the way and let you get shot?"

"Yes!"

Edi's head jerked back. She stared at Fib in surprise, then said softly, "I couldn't have done that, Fib."

"You should have! You shouldn't have gotten in the way!" Fib leapt to his feet. He was shouting now, his voice tinged with anger and desperation. "I'm not worth it. You shouldn't throw your life away for _me_. Do you understand? _I'm __**not**__ worth it!_" His whole body was shaking. He'd gone pale and his pupils were dilated. "I'm not, _I'm not, __**I'm not!**__"_

Lieutenant Shmolt blundered around the tree just then, at the exactly _wrong_ time. "Sir," he said breathlessly. "We have the droids in retreat! They're—" He froze in midsentence, his eyes sweeping over the scene before him. He took in everything: the general on the ground, the crude bandage around her middle, Fib's stricken face. "What did you do?" he hissed.

Shades surged to his feet. "He didn't do anything," he snapped, moving his body between the lieutenant and the obviously distraught medic. He leaned in close so his helmet almost touched Shmolt's. "The only thing he did was save the general's life!"

"Saving her life? If he'd listened when I said to pull back, she wouldn't be hurt! It's his fault she got shot!"

"Why you—"

He almost expected the medic to intervene, but Fib didn't say anything. He didn't even seem to hear what was going on. He stood rigidly, every muscle tensed, eyes seeming to stare at nothing. The medic looked like he'd fallen into the grip of some waking nightmare.

Shades's attention was reverted to Edi as the Jedi pushed herself painfully to her feet. "Thank you, Lieutenant," she said, her voice surprisingly cold. "You're dismissed."

Shmolt obviously wanted to argue, but one look at the general's face and he nodded smartly and left to reorganize the men. Turning his attention back to the medic, Shades found that he seemed to have come back to himself. Fib's eyes were focused, though his face was drawn and pale. "I need to go look after the wounded," he muttered, then hurried away before Edi or Shades could say anything.

Edi made to follow, but Shades caught her shoulder. "We need to get you back to the ship so you can get that wound looked at. Besides," he said, his face turning grim. "This is something that I need to talk to him about."

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><p><strong>Sorry about the cliff hanger, too. I hate those, but this was a good stopping place. The next chapter should be up shortly. Please review.<strong>

**mad'ika**


	4. Chapter 4

**I hope this was quick enough for you ;)**

**I do not own Star Wars.**

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><p>Shades had a harder time getting ahold of Fib than he'd anticipated. The man could evade like no body's business. Shades would see him through a crowd of milling troopers crouched next to a wounded brother, and just before he reached him, Fib would be up and off to the next patient, completely ignoring the sergeant's shouted orders to <em>stay where he was<em>. It was exceedingly frustrating. Shades was fairly seething by the time the transport shuttles arrived and he still hadn't cornered the medic.

Fib lost him in the rush to board the shuttles. Shades saw neither hide no hair of him on the ride up, then when they were back on the _Starlight_ there were reports to be given and men to be treated and just so much to do that it was dinner time before he remembered that he needed to talk to the man. Fib wasn't in the mess hall, so Shades grabbed a quick bight and started his search. He decided to conduct a systematic sweep of the entire ship and had searched a good quarter of it before it occurred to him to look in the most obvious place: medbay.

The beds were crowded with wounded brothers, some sedated, some awake. Medics and MDs were scurrying from bed to bed, shouting and beeping at each other and racing across the room for equipment, and yet they all managed to stay out of each other's way. Shades scanned the room for a telltale bright shock of red hair and growled to himself when he didn't see it.

_He's got to be here somewhere… maybe the back._

Shades made his way cautiously around the edge of the room and slipped unnoticed into the back storage rooms.

"You!"

Fib, who'd been taking stock of the amount of pain killers that were left, jumped so badly that he dropped several packets. That told Shades just how messed up his brother was right then; it was almost as hard to sneak up on Fib as it was on Edi. Fib turned, giving the sergeant an annoyed look that did nothing to hide how shaken he was. His usual air of frustrated indifference was shot to _haran_ and wouldn't be coming back anytime soon. Shades blocked the door when Fib tried to leave.

"Oh no you don't. I've spent too much time tracking you down to just let you run off now."

"I have patients I need to see."

"There are plenty of medics and droids to take care of that. We need to talk."

"No, we don't." Fib tried to push his way past the other man. Shades shoved him back. The medic backed off for a second, then took a swing at him. Shades ducked and Fib's fist made contact with the door frame. Shades took advantage of the moment and ducked under Fib's guard, driving him backwards into the shelves of medical supplies. He used his own body to pin Fib and hold him immobile.

"We _are_ going to talk," Shades panted. "You blew up at Edi over saving your life. I want to know _why_."

"It's none of your business!" Fib spat, writhing in Shades's hold. He managed to get one arm free and took another swing at the sergeant, but Shades caught his wrist and pinned it above his head.

"It's no use. You can struggle all you want, but I'm not letting you go until you tell me why you think you're not worth saving."

"Let go of me!"

Shades gritted his teeth and tightened his hold. Fib had changed back into his gray fatigues, but he was still in his armor. "No! I'm trying to help, moron, and I'm not letting go until you accept it. Why aren't you worth it?"

"Let go!"

"Then tell me! Why aren't you worth it?"

"Go away!"

"Why aren't you worth it?"

"No!"

"Why aren't you worth it? Why? Tell me!"

"Because I couldn't save him!" Fib screamed it and in the pause afterward he lunged forward, bashing his head against Shades's own unhelmeted one. The sergeant grunted as he felt his nose crack. Blood welled and ran down his face, some getting into his mouth. He just barely managed to catch Fib as the medic ran for the door. He caught him with an arm around his throat and slammed him into the ground, throwing himself on top and using the greater weight that his armor provided to pin the other to the floor. The storeroom fell silent, save for the heavy breathing and tight, suppressed gasps of pain.

It took a second for Shades to get enough breath back to speak. "What do you mean?" he gasped, doing his best to ignore the hot burning pain in his nose. It was definitely broken.

Fib groaned, his head lulling sideways, and for a minute Shades was afraid he might have actually hurt the guy. Then Fib turned his head and Shades found himself captured in his bright eyes.

"My brother got hurt because of _me_. He threw himself in front of me and took the shrapnel that would have hit me. It _should_ have hit me." His voice was surprisingly calm, even reasonable as he told Shades exactly why he was worthless. "I've always been good at fixing people. Some part of me's always known where someone was hurting and how to fix it. I've saved so many, but…I couldn't save _him_." Fib's voice broke. "When it really mattered, I couldn't do a kriffing thing!"

His eyes seemed to be glistening. Shades suddenly realized that they were full of tears.

"He died right there in my arms. He was…_happy_ that it was him and not me. But it should have been me! He was too good to die for someone like me!" Tears were running down his cheeks now as he stared up at Shades, heartbroken. "I _felt_ him die." It was a strangled whisper. "It was like something inside me snapped and the world fell apart… he was gone."

Fib couldn't speak anymore for the sobs. His whole body shook with them. Shades slipped his hand behind his head to cushion it against another hard contact with the floor. "I know, brother," he whispered. "I know."

Fib gasped, mouthing something that could have been a name, maybe _Grayson_, but he couldn't be sure. He was completely out of his depth. A part of him wanted to slip from the room, to get away from this unnerving display of vulnerability. But there was no way he would leave a brother who so obviously needed him, even if it made him uncomfortable.

He was vaguely surprised by how upsetting it was to see Fib like this. There was a time not too long ago when Shades would have reveled in the medic's distress. Now thought, he'd give anything—absolutely _anything_—to see Fib be his old cocky, argumentative self instead of this broken stranger lying under him. It figured that Edi would be nowhere around just when Fib could have used a bit of calming Jedi mind-influence. Though Shades doubted that it would actually have any effect on him. Edi said that it only worked on the weak minded and Fib was the strongest person he knew.

The medic finally seemed to be calming. His sobs were slowly dying off, giving way to the occasional hiccup. Figuring that there was no need to keep the other man pinned, Shades moved to crouch next to him on the deck. He wondered if he should be saying something, maybe about how you couldn't save everyone and Fib's life was worth something, at least to _him_. But that was all to intimate and Shades shied away from saying it, even if it was true. Besides, he knew that telling Fib it wasn't his fault and that he shouldn't blame himself would be useless. They were empty words, a load of _osik_, and it never made you feel better, only more guilty. In the end he settled for a comradely hand on his brother's shoulder. Fierfek, his nose hurt.

Fib twitched on the ground, then slowly pushed himself up, cradling the back of his head with a grimace. The knuckles on his right hand looked bruised from where they'd made contact with the doorframe. He glanced at Shades, looking vaguely guilty when he noticed the sergeant's obviously broken nose.

"Here," he said as he stretched out his hand. "Let me…"

His touch was surprisingly gentle. Shades sat still as Fib examined his nose with a critical eye, though he couldn't help flinching when the medic reset it. There was a sharp flare of pain that faded suddenly as Fib's warm, calloused fingers stroked the bruised skin. Shades blinked in surprise at the rapidly retreating pain, then looked at Fib.

"Thanks."

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><p><strong>Please review.<strong>

**mad'ika**


	5. Chapter 5

**A little shorter than usual, but I thought it came out well.**

**I do not own Star Wars.**

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><p>This was the fourth time that Shades had passed this particular viewport in the particular deserted hall. Nothing had changed and nothing would. No one was going to steal the hall and he was fairly certain that the view through the transparisteel was safe from vandalism. Honestly, Shades didn't see the point of late-night watch. Maybe on a ship with mongrel officers—you could never be sure of them—but what clone would willfully damage a Republic ship? Renegade was made up entirely of clones. The only non-clone on the <em>Starlight<em> was Edi. Shades bet the only reason they had this was because Shmolt insisted that they follow shipboard regulations to the letter, and Thorn couldn't find the energy to argue with him. So he was stuck patrolling a half deserted ship for no real reason.

The sound of a familiar tread broke him out of the monotonous cycle of thought, though it sounded a little different: not the heavy _thunk_ of armored boots but the quiet shuffle of bare feet. Shades glanced over his shoulder at Fib as the clone medic came into view. He wore only long gray sleep-pants. Shades noticed with some curiosity the rather conspicuous lack of scaring on the man's bare chest.

Scars were a common sight amongst clones; most of the time it was small ones here and there, but sometimes the scaring was more extensive, often the result of an explosion. The sergeant himself had several burn scars from blaster bolts on his torso and a nasty, jagged scar that fan the length of his back from where a large piece of flying metal had hit him, nearly severing his spinal cord. It was hard to miss scars when you shared refreshers and bunkrooms with your brothers, but Shades could never remember seeing any scars on Fib.

The medic came to stand beside him, and they both turned silently to regard the blue-white fires of hyperspace visible through the viewport. An oddly comfortable silence descended between them, leaving plenty of time for Shades to think. Not surprisingly, those thoughts centered around Fib, what had happened earlier that day, and what this meant for… well, them.

Something had changed between them, something fundamental. He didn't know what it was, but he could feel the difference, not as a lack of something, but as an addition. Shades was aware of being _more_ than he'd been when he woke up.

He wasn't certain how this change had come about. Maybe through shared trauma, though he'd been in more dire situations with people before, and while he was left with a sense of closeness, it wasn't like this. Maybe… because they'd seen each other at their lowest, at their most base level, and each had thought _I've seen worse_.

Maybe it was as complicated—and as simple—as that.

_And that's all very well_, Shades thought irritably. _But what does that make us now?_

He had to admit that he and Fib might be considered friends by most people's standards. But Shades had friends, like Gear and Smokestack and Edi, and whatever he had with Fib didn't feel quite the same. Friendship seemed to be both an exaggeration and a gross underestimation of their new relationship.

Shades ground his teeth in annoyance. Only Fib could force him to think so hard without saying a kriffing thing.

They were not friends and more than friends. Maybe in the end, they just… were. Shades decided that he could be happy with that.

The silence continued unbroken as the _Starlight_ swam on through hyperspace, eating up the parsecs between them and their next destination, where ever that was. It didn't seem all that important right then.

"He never liked watching hyperspace. It made him queasy." Fib spoke softly, eyes never leaving the viewport.

Shades glanced over at him. The light from the viewport cast strange bluish shadows on his skin.

_He_. Shades knew without asking that Fib was talking about his dead brother. He wondered if the other clone ever called him by name, or if that felt too intimate, too raw. By referring to the dead man by an impersonal pronoun, Fib created a distance between himself and his memories. Just enough of a distance to keep him from shattering. Yes, Fib had been right when he said he knew broken. He was broken.

_But not_, Shades thought privately, _beyond repair._

"He loved bright colors," Fib said, his voice almost wistful with barely concealed pain. "You know there aren't many colors on Kamino and I bet you remember the shock when you first saw Coruscant. So bright. He loved it all, but especially the green. He nearly through me out the bunkroom window when he was trying to show me the grass on the parade field. Then he shoved me face-first into the stuff when we got out there." He chuckled, one hand reaching up to finger his hair absently. "He forced me to dye my hair. Said something about it suiting me personality. He got his hair dyed, too, with green racing stripes on the sides. We were the first in our unit."

Shades could well imagine the fuss Fib had put up over the whole incident. And yet, he'd kept his hair the bright red that contrasted so strangely with his black eyebrows.

"He was… really kind. The only one that really bothered to get to know me. I… I could always c-count on him…" Fib trailed off and blinked fiercely. Shades kept his eyes carefully averted, giving the other man some privacy in which to collect himself. "Yes, well," said Fib briskly, obviously struggling to reassert his usual gruffness. Silence fell again.

Shades shifted slightly, trying not to fidget_. _He wished he could take his armor off. His muscles ached from the strenuous day and wearing the hard stuff wasn't helping. Standing late-night watch wasn't either. He could feel the subtle tremors beginning in his thighs. Sourly, Shades wondered once more why anyone had to stand the vaping things. It wasn't like there was anything to watch. His eyes were stinging with fatigue and he could feel the beginnings of the telltale headache that meant he'd pushed himself too far yet again.

He jumped when a hand unexpectedly grasped his shoulder. Shades was about to turn and snap at Fib for starling him, but was stopped by the most astounding sensation. His muscles had stopped aching. His thighs no longer trembled. His headache was gone as though it had never been. Even he stinging in his eyes had faded to a bare itch. He felt more alert, at least enough to finish his watch and get back to his bunk without fainting.

Shades twisted around, but Fib was already gone, padding back down the hall toward his bed. The sergeant considered shouting after him, but it seemed wrong to disturb the quiet of the ship. So he let the medic go and set off at a brisk pace to finish his watch. His own bed was waiting for him.

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><p>By the next morning, he had a plan. Mentally, he referred to it as the Socialization Plan. Not very creative, but it got the point across.<p>

As soon as he stepped out of line in the mess hall, Shades carefully scanned the tables. Yes, Fib was eating alone at his usual table. Smokestack was just making to walk past him when he grabbed his arm.

"What?"

"Let's sit at a different table. Hey, Gear, Ion, you guys, too." Without waiting for an answer, Shades dragged a rather surprised Smokestack in the direction of Fib's table. Gear and Ion trailed behind. "Good morning," the clone sergeant sang in an overly cheerful voice as they reached the table. Fib's retort died in his throat and his look of annoyance changed to one of surprise at the sudden influx of people. Shades smirked at the startled medic. "Did you sleep well, honey?" he asked, all mock concern. Fib gave him a dirty look.

Things were a little awkward at first, but when there was food, no clone sat in silence for long. Soon enough, they were all chatting happily around mouthfuls of food. Fib was dragged into a debate with Gear over some medic thing or other. The plan seemed to be going well.

"Morning, boys." Edi was abruptly there, sliding in between Shades and Ion. "Mind if I join you?"

Who in their right mind would say no to the general? Fib's usually solitary table gained another member. Then Captain Thorn showed up, saying he had to talk with the general. Edi invited him to sit down and he accepted, along with a rather reluctant Lieutenant Shmolt. Where there had once been one person eating, now there were eight. The other clones were starting to take notice.

Fib glared at Shades from across the table. "I hate you." He had to raise his voice to make himself heard.

Shades shrugged nonchalantly, then smirked at his… friend. "No need to thank me. Just being my usual, benevolent self."

He got a muffin thrown with deadly accuracy at his head for his trouble.

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><p><strong>The End...<strong>

**I jest...or maybe not? REVIEW and the story goes on ;) don't review and...TT_TT**

**mad'ika**


	6. Chapter 6

**This is not the end! Rejoice and be glad! This chapter is mostly just an interlude; things should pick up in the next one, which I will have up soon. Please enjoy.**

**I do not own Star Wars.**

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><p>Moving was strenuous. You had to meet with a sales representative, agree on a price, and get your dwelling on the market. Then there was the anxiety over getting the place sold <em>before<em> you moved so you didn't end up paying a double mortgage. And even when you got an interested buyer, you could never be sure that they wouldn't back out at the last minute. And even after you had a firm taker, there was still the _moving_ bit: packing everything up in boxes, throwing away junk, maybe selling a few things, little kids underfoot, older kids claiming the galaxy would come to an end if they had to move in the middle of the school year. Yes, moving was definitely strenuous.

Or so he'd heard. Never actually having lived in a house or apartment or whatever, Thorn had never had to go through the motions of selling it. He only knew what he'd seen in holovids. But then, he also doubted that any civvie had ever experienced the tedious, grinding, rub-your-nerves-raw horror that was moving into a new base.

They'd received word from Fleet Command that the _Starlight_ was to make all due haste to the Outer Rim world of Haashimut. There, Renegade Company was to take over possession of the GAR base from the fourth Veshok Battalion, make it secure, and hold the planet against possible Separatist assault, all in _under sixteen hours_. Obviously the top brass had no idea what "taking possession" of a base actually entailed if they expected all that to be done in _under sixteen hours_! And, of course, Edi would get a convenient comm from the Jedi Council that would necessitate her staying on board the ship for a meeting of indeterminate length. That left Thorn to supervise the transfer from ship to groundside base.

By himself.

In _under sixteen hours_.

"You two! What are you doing?" bellowed the agitated captain, striding in the direction of two clones struggling to carry three large crates between them. Thorn took a quick look at the numbers on the crates, glanced at his datapad, and made an irritated rumble in the back of his throat. "These don't go here. Get them up to maintenance, second level."

"But-but, sir-"

"No buts, Foaly. Get those crates up to maintenance. Now!"

"Yes, sir." Panting, the two clones turned and staggered in the direction of the lifts, fighting to keep their grip on the heavy boxes.

Thorn turned sharply on his heel and headed for the comm center, dodging around other clones carrying more crates, file cabinets, and furniture. He strode into the comm center, making sure to step carefully over piles of tangled wire and other components as he made his way toward one of the stations. The access panels had been removed from the sides, exposing the comm equipment's inner mechanisms. One clone crouched on the floor by a tool box while another was headfirst through the open access panels. All that could be seen of him was the white armor of his legs.

"This isn't working," the clone muttered. A hand appeared, groping around for something. "Laser, give me the Weequay wrench. Some precision work's required."

The clone next to the tool box obediently handed him the largest wrench in the set, and put his fingers in his ears. Both hand and wrench vanished and there was a moment of silence. The metallic clang that followed was so loud that Thorn's helmet automatically buffered the sound. Violent swearing issued from somewhere else in the comm center.

The clone eased himself out from under the counter. "Well," he said thoughtfully, "that loosened something up. Better check exactly what. Afternoon, sir." The last was directed at the captain, to whom he gave a casual salute. It was completely out of protocol, of course. You weren't supposed to salute without your helmet on, let alone from a seated position. Shmolt would have thrown a fit. Thorn grinned.

"How's communication coming, Techie?"

"Well, sir, we've made some progress. We've confirmed what Veshok's comm officer told us: there's definitely a problem. We might even know where it is. No all we have to do is fix it." He grinned cheerfully. "That's the fun part."

Thorn chuckled, even as he was turning to go. "All right. Keep me informed. And keep up the good work."

"Aye, aye, sir!"

The captain's good mood lasted until he got to the armory, which on first inspection looked fine, but when he peered into one of the crates, he found that it was full of dry rations. They all were. Someone had messed up the numbering system and brought these crates here instead of taking them to the cold food storage in the kitchens, which were probably full of explosives and shoulder mounted rocket launchers.

"Trek, Eepo, Lagger," Captain Thorn gestured briskly to three clones that weren't carrying something. "Get those crates down to the cold food storage, and get the weapons you're likely to find there back here. Quickly now, no dawdling."

"Yes, sir."

As Thorn continued down the hall, he consulted the chrono in his HUD; they had ten hours left before Fleet Control called to confirm a successful base transfer. Seeing the chaos that still consumed the base, Thorn despaired that they would ever finish in time.

"Captain." He turned to find Lieutenant Shmolt coming in his direction. They were best friends, but Shmolt refused to call his superior by name while on duty. Thorn had gotten used to this long ago. The man had been the same on Kamino and exposure to the wider galaxy hadn't done a thing to alter him. He was not one of those people that adapted well.

"What is it, Lieutenant?"

Shmolt came to stand next to him and showed him his datapad, which had the schematics for the base on it. "Sir, I don't agree with your chosen location for the forward command center. Regulation says that it should be in the most protected part of the building, not where we have easiest access."

Thorn resisted the urge to scream in frustration. He loved Shmolt to no end, but _really_. They had more important things to worry about, like reestablishing communications. And shouldn't he be supervising so that mix-ups like the dry rations in the armory didn't happen instead of worrying about what regulations said about the location of the command center?

"Shmolt, would you _please_ let me worry about that? What I need you to do right now is supervise the transfer of equipment so that everything ends up in the right place."

"But, sir-"

"Shmolt. Please."

The lieutenant paused long enough to let Thorn know that he didn't approve of the way he was ordering his priorities, then gave a sharp nod. "Yes, sir."

As he watched the man walk stiffly away, Thorn let out a dangerously shaky sigh. He closed his eyes. A second, he just needed a second…

"Ooh, nice one…"

The distant voice filtered in over the surrounding clatter. Thorn's brow furrowed. That didn't sound like someone was working. Getting suspicious, the captain opened his eyes and headed in the direction of the voice. Moving into one of the less crowded back halls, he looked around. A flash of movement through an open door caught his attention and Thorn moved closer so he could see into the room.

It was one of the designated rec rooms. Boxes were stacked against one wall and a sofa was set down at an angle. The only other piece of furniture in the room was the low-grav ping pong table. It was currently in use.

A group of about twelve clones were gathered around the table cheering on the two opponents, both of whom Thorn recognized: Fib and Shades. The two were engaged in a fierce battle, sending the ball flying back and forth across the table with their virtual paddles. The score counter of the table showed that they were currently tied and desperately trying to break it.

The clone captain was about to shout at them all to _get back to work_ in a voice that could be heard over the noise of battle, but a particularly genius stroke from Fib distracted him. Shades countered with an equally brilliant strike, and so it progressed: strike, counterstrike, backhand, underhand, over-the-head, smash. Before he knew it, he'd been caught up in the rhythm of the game. Thorn was familiar with the game; he played it occasionally with his brothers when he had downtime. But he'd never played this hard or this fast.

Shades was one of the best low-grav ping pong players in Renegade. He had a quick eye, an agile wrist, and a killer overhead shot. Not to mention the speed with which he could hit the ball.

But as fast as Shades was, Fib was faster.

The red haired medic moved with almost blinding speed to hit the ball. He seemed to have some sort of sixth sense that was telling him where Shades would send the ball next. The sergeant scored some points on him, but not many.

The game ended in a frantic rush, with the ball smashed back and forth so fast that the only way Thorn knew who won was by reading the score counter. Shades's frustrated cursing also helped. The other clones whooped and hollered appreciation of the suspenseful game. Tenn even went so far as to give Fib a rough, one armed hug.

"That was great! You were kriffing fast!"

Shades threw down his paddle, which fizzled out before hitting the floor, and pointed an accusing finger at the medic. "You cheated," he seethed. "I don't know how, but you did. You must have."

Fib raised a sardonic eyebrow. "You're just a sore loser."

"Cheater!"

"Whiner."

"Moron!"

"Baby."

The other clones laughed when Shades started strangling the air in pure frustration. No one was fooled, though. It was common knowledge that the two were friends now, despite questionable beginnings. Thorn even found himself chuckling before he remembered why he was there.

"Attention!"

Immediately, the clones all snapped to attention, their faces becoming blank and unreadable, showing no hint of their surprise or consternation at being caught. Thorn saw, of course.

"While you _nibrale_ are lazing about, your brothers are working nonstop to get this base operational. I'm disappointed. You're all on half-rations for the next two weeks. Now get back to work."

"Yes, sir." There were no complaints about the punishment. The clones simply filed out and set off at brisk jogs down the hall to rejoin the rush of work. Thorn came after them. He was very thankful for his helmet at the moment, because it hid the smile he was unable to suppress.

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><p><strong>Please review.<strong>

**mad'ika**


	7. Chapter 7

**I do not own Star Wars.**

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><p>"Fib, where are you?"<p>

Shades had been looking for the medic for a good ten minutes now. Renegade had only been on base for three days, but he'd already memorized the layout. It helped that he'd spent the first sixteen hours hauling crates and furniture around like a currier droid. That had given him a pretty firm grounding in where most of the main rooms were, like the bunks, 'freshers, gym, and, most important of all, the mess hall. Unfortunately, that didn't tell him where Fib might be.

The base was much bigger than Shades had expected for a small, dirt-poor world on the Outer Rim like Haashimut. The gym had good equipment, the mess hall was big enough to seat four companies, there seemed to be an endless number of storerooms, and there was even a firing range. All the equipment and tech were the latest, shipped in just before Renegade arrived. It was all very nice, but it seemed a bit of a waste of the increasingly limited GAR budget for such a strategically insignificant world.

The size was also inconvenient when you were looking for a person who never hung out in the usual places of congregation. On the _Starlight_, Shades had known Fib's usual haunts and could find him there easily. Even when the medic was elsewhere, he could be fairly certain of finding him. The _Starlight_ was a decimator-class assault ship, a smaller cousin of the more familiar acclamator-class, more commonly known as Jedi Cruisers or Star Destroyers. An acclamator was about three times the size of a decimator, which was designed to support a company and any support staff that might be onboard. The base was much bigger than Shades was used to. This was the first time in his short life that he could walk down a hall, peer around a corner, and not see a brother within shouting distance. He found it unnerving.

_Where's the medbay?_

Shades only had a vague idea where it might be; none of his errands had taken him that way yet, but it was the most likely place that he'd find Fib.

"Shades, you're looking more befuddled than usual."

The sergeant turned to find Jedi Knight Edrasi Nyine smiling at him. He huffed, then grinned ruefully, throwing a casual salute her way. She waved it off.

"I'm looking for the medbay."

Edi nodded knowingly. "It's on the other side of the base, on the first level. But Fib's in the mess hall."

Oh. That was the one place he hadn't looked. Curse the man. "Thanks," Shades muttered, turning on his heel and retracing his steps.

The mess hall was crowded, but Shades spotted Fib at an empty table as he headed for the food line. Of course. Despite Shades's attempts to socialize the man, he stubbornly refused to get close to people. He radiated an aura that said _stay away_. Even Shades felt like he was being held at arms' length. He wondered sometimes whether it was the man's nature, or a coping mechanism.

The serving droid slopped a brown liquid mass onto a mound of mashed vegetables. It would have needed a forensic test to confirm that it was minced nerf in gravy, but this was still a long way from the bland nutrition cubes they'd been fed as kids and still carried as part of their dry rations. Hot, savory food was a luxury that Shades never took for granted. He grabbed his tray and moved to join Fib, greeting his brothers on the way. He sat down next to the medic, who grunted a greeting.

"Nice to see you, too."

They sat in silence for a while, each too intent on his food for conversation. You grabbed every meal you could around here, because you could never be sure when you'd next get the chance to eat a full meal of something that actually had a taste.

Swallowing his last mouthful of mashed vegetables—which he only ate under direct orders from Edi—Shades turned his attention to Fib. "I actually have a reason for sitting with you, you know."

"And here I thought it was just because of my lovable personality and sparkling conversation."

"Ha ha. No."

"Well, you're going to have to tell me. I'm not a mind reader."

A shiver ran down Shades's spine at the memory of their conversation in the _Starlight_'s mess hall. He wondered sometimes…

"I want a rematch."

Fib let out an exasperated sigh and put his fork down next to his mostly eaten plate of chaka noodles. "You're still sore about that ping pong match? Don't you have better things to obsess about? You lost. Get over it."

"I'm not obsessing, and I didn't lose. You cheated. You told me you'd never played before."

"The low-grav variety, yes. We played plenty of old-fashioned ping pong with wooden paddles back in the five-oh-first."

Shades blinked, momentarily distracted by the unexpected information that Fib had served in the 501st. General Skywalker's legion. The man was a legend, and it was considered an honor to serve under him, but he was also known to have a very high troop mortality rate. That rate probably went up when Fib was transferred. Maybe Skywalker couldn't handle his cheek.

He mentally shook himself and refocused on the present argument. "That's beside the point. You said you'd never played before. You lied by omission, which is the same as lying, so I still say you cheated."

Fib rolled his eyes. "You have such a one-track mind," he muttered, turning his attention back to his food and studiously ignoring the way Shades puffed up in indignation. A retort was on the tip of his tongue, but he bit it back. A leader had to be able to pick and choose his battles, and be able to make a sound judgment call on when it was time to retreat so he and his men could live to fight another day. The same held true in friendship; you had to know when something wasn't worth it and back off, if only to save your energy for the next round. With Fib, Shades needed all the energy he could get.

The table was silent except for the faint wet sounds of eating. Shades's mind drifted to the _Starlight_, still in orbit with only a skeleton crew on board. He didn't like the idea of the ship mostly empty and felt a pang of homesickness. The _Starlight_ was the closest thing Renegade Company had to a home. Many of them spent more time on her than in their barracks back on Coruscant.

Shades didn't like Haashimut. The planet was dusty, dry, and _hot_. It orbited three suns, so there was always one in the sky; the planet had no real night. There were very few features. Most of the surface was covered in flat plains of white and sandy gravel. When all three suns were up, the glare was so intense that helmets were required for outdoor excursions.

The base itself was located next to the only settlement large enough to be called a city, though Mareeb wouldn't have added up to a small neighborhood on Coruscant or Alderaan and it was mostly slums. The locals claimed to be on the Republic's side, but so far they were proving to be just as much trouble as the Separatist presence on the planet, which wasn't very large. At least, it wasn't big enough to require a base of this size to keep it in check.

"This is all a kriffing waste of time," Shades muttered.

Fib glanced up from his noodles. "What do you mean?"

"This." And Shades's arm gesture encompassed not only the base, but the entire planet and the ship in orbit overhead. "This whole thing. The generals should just withdraw the garrison and leave the locals to sort themselves out, because they'll be as much trouble for the Separatists as they are for us. Might tie them up here for free. Then we could get back to actually being useful instead of babysitting the ungrateful populace."

The clone medic tilted his head in thought, then nodded slowly. "There's a sort of logic to—"

He stopped abruptly, his entire body going rigid. Shades could see the small hairs on the back of his neck rising from where he was seated. He regarded his brother with some concern. "Hey, you o—"

One moment everything was normal, sunlight filtering through windows set high in the wall and men going about the business of feeding themselves, and the next, everything was swallowed in a whirlwind of flame and dust. Shades was thrown backwards by the force of it, then something collided with him, driving the air from his lungs and pinning him to the floor. He lay on his back trying to suck in breaths, succeeding only in swallowing dust that choked him. He couldn't breathe—

But he could hear. That was something.

The yelling began right away; no screams, just shouts to do this, check that, get medics. Shades made a few attempts to get up before he realized that something was on top of him.

It was Fib.

He was breathing strangely, in short ragged pants. They sounded watery, like there was fluid in his lungs. Shades could feel his warm breath on his adam's apple. Then Fib's entire body shuddered and hot liquid dribbled onto his neck.

Blood. Fib was coughing up blood.

Shades could see shards of transparisteel imbedded in the medic's back. His grey fatigues were stained red with blood and shredded. Shades's mind couldn't seem to register it. Things weren't making sense.

But they made too much sense.

Fib had covered him from the shrapnel. He'd used his own body as a shield and taken the jagged pieces of metal that would have hit Shades. And he'd moved just an instant before the explosion, with his back to the wall that had been breached. How had he known? How…

Fib's body spasmed again as he hacked up more blood. Droplets of it speckled Shades's face.

The sergeant slid slowly into a sitting position, the movement causing Fib to slide off him. He caught reflexively at his shoulders, wrapping an arm around them and anchoring the other clone in his lap. He fumbled in his pocket and raised a shaking hand to his mouth, bringing his comlink into range and keying the transmit button. His eyes wandered around the room as he waited for a signal.

The mess hall was a mess of upended tables and chairs. It didn't seem to have taken the full force of the explosion, but the shock wave and debris had punched out the doors, torn down several walls, and flung anything that wasn't secured across the room.

The force of the explosion had thrown tables haphazardly about the room. One man had been pinned beneath one. Another's leg had been crushed. More had been hit by large chunks of masonry and metal and others by shrapnel. One clone lay spread-eagled amongst the carnage. Shades had that moment of trying to make sense of what he was looking at but not wanting to, because his brain was saying _Horrible, look away—no look, you have to, even if it makes you sick_. He hadn't been hit by any tables; in fact, there were no large pieces of debris anywhere around him. But a fork protruded from the bloody mess that had been his eye. More than half the clone's face had been obscured by the red liquid.

Some things in battle you shut out, and some you couldn't and would never stop seeing. Shades felt this scene slot into his memory as if it would never fade. It was the incongruity of it, a scene of carnage with food and cups spread among the blood.

There was a faint _click_ as the comm came to life and a breathless voice said, "Nyine here."

"Edi…"

"Shades, is that you?"

"Yeah… what happened?"

"We were hit by a missile. Direct hit on the front entrance." Her voice came in pants like she was running. "You okay?"

Shades ignored the question. "What happened to the perimeter defense systems? We're supposed to be secure here."

"I just raised the base security team. The security scanners show the trajectory of the missile, and it came from inside the city. Not from rebel positions. Where are you?"

"Mess hall." Shades looked down at the trembling medic in his lap. The initial daze was lifting and cold dread was taking its place, along with something that felt horribly like panic. "Hurry. It's pretty bad."

"I'll be right there." The comm went dead.

_Slow, deep breaths, soldier. Whatever you do, don't panic. You've handled worse situations than this before_.

Despite what Shades told himself, he hadn't faced something like this before. Never before had the place he'd considered safe, really _safe_, been attacked. His _home_ had never been attacked. Not this violently and without provocation. _Nobody_ expected to have to die while they were off duty trying to grab a meal. Out of all the death he'd seen so far, this was different, _he_ was different, and he felt he'd tipped over an edge that he would never be able to draw back from again.

Shades tightened his grip on Fib's shoulders. Suddenly he couldn't find his voice. His throat was frozen and his lungs felt like they were full of lead. He stared at his brother, his _friend_, in growing terror. More blood bubbled on Fib's lips, a red froth that dribbled down his chin.

"Why?" It came out as a weak, cracked whisper.

Fib gasped for breath. The sound bubbled in his throat. It was the sound of drowning, when all around was dry land. There was blood in his lungs.

"_Why?_" This time Shades screamed it. "Why did you do that? We hate each other, remember? You're not supposed to go throwing your life away for me. It's against the rules, you moron!"

He eased Fib onto his side, looking for a way to take some pressure off his chest and ease his breathing. He shifted Fib up so that his head rested in the crook of Shades's neck, his body supported against the sergeant's chest. Fib snorted, then coughed violently. More blood came up. When he finally got his breath back, he spoke. "Just… did what I had to…"

Shades shook his head furiously. He meant to shout, but all that came out was a broken whisper. "Why didn't you just mind your own business?"

Fib peered up at him, somehow managing to look annoyed. "How should I… know? My body just… moved… on its own… idiot…" His voice died away to a faint wheeze.

Shades squeezed his eyes shut against scorching tears. "I… I h-hate you…"

Fib chuckled weakly. The clone sergeant used his hand to wipe away the blood on his lips and chin, ignoring the stain it left on his own skin. More quickly took its place. Fib let out a weak moan of pain and his body trembled. Shades held him more tightly, desperately trying to hold him together. To hold him here.

"I don't even… know why… I'm… still alive," said Fib, his voice trembling. Underneath it, that awful bubbling. "After… _he_ died… I don't know what kept… me here." His face contorted in a pain that wasn't physical and tears ran down his cheeks. "I… miss him… s-so much… can't really see the point… but…" His voice had faded to a whisper, so quiet that Shades had to press his ear almost to Fib's lips to hear him. "…but don't you dare die…"

His body went limp in Shades's arms.

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><p><strong>Please review.<strong>

**mad'ika**


	8. Chapter 8

**I do not own Star Wars.**

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><p>Attachment.<p>

To be a Jedi was to renounce attachment. It was forbidden.

Edrasi Nyine had struggled with attachment from her earliest days in the Temple. She was one of the few taken old enough to remember her family. Her father's sunken face, eyes filled with pain as he gave her to the Jedi. Her mother's gaunt cheeks and tangled hair, her gut-wrenching sobs and the raw pain that Edi could feel even at the age of two. One of her brothers asking if this meant they would now have enough to eat. They'd loved her, she remembered that, but it wasn't until she was older that she began to understand why they had given her to a complete stranger, like in those stories her brothers told her about poor farmers who gave their first born children to ogres in exchange for riches beyond imagination.

Edi now understood that her parents had done it for her. It had been a last desperate attempt to give their youngest child and only daughter something better in life than what she'd been born to. They'd done it for her own good, but it was a long time before she could find it in her heart to forgive them.

Edi loved the Temple. Its soft light, gentle sounds, and gardens full of greenery and water were a far cry from her blurry memories of crowded, smelly streets and dry brown fields under a pale blue sky bleached almost to whiteness by the hot sun. Her clanmates were very different from her rude, skinny brothers, and she grew very close to them. They became her new family.

Then came the inevitable day when she was taken as a Padawan learner by a Jedi Master. She'd been so proud, eager to impress and prove that she had what it took to be a Jedi. But Master Waric Nivix was not an easy man to please.

No matter what she did, she _could have done better_. It seemed that everything she said was wrong. Edi stayed up late into the night in one of the Temple's training rooms, working herself until her exhausted muscles couldn't hold her up and she collapsed to the mat. Her Master would find her there in the morning and teller to _get up_, that this was _behavior unbecoming for a Jedi, and especially for his apprentice_.

Of all the faults Master Nivix found with her, attachment was the worst. He always told Edi that she became too easily attached, to her friends and to every random being that crossed her path on a mission. She was effortlessly won over by every sob story, every dirty, hungry face. In a fit of temper, she'd once demanded to know _what was wrong with that? Wasn't it a Jedi's duty to see others' pain and try to help, not turn a blind eye?_

She'd never seen such cold rage from her Master as she'd seen then. He'd struck her, hard enough to knock her to the ground, and said that she was _never to question him like that again; he was the master, she the apprentice, and he knew and understood more about life and the ways of the Force than she ever would_.

Edi kept quiet after that. She kept her head down, did as her Master said, and waited for the day that she would be knighted. That day came finally, on her twenty-fourth birthday. She knelt before her Master and the Council, Coruscant's morning light streaming through the windows of the Council Chamber, and as Master Nivix severed her braid, a feeling of unbelievable lightness expanded within her chest. She was free.

The giddiness of true independence lasted until her first solo mission. It was a disaster.

The desperate single mother that she'd tried to help had turned out to be one of the main figures in a ruthless gang that she'd been ordered to arrest. In her misguided effort to help the woman, she'd played right into her hands. Edi barely made it away with her life; many other people weren't so lucky.

As Edi sat in the local med center getting treated for her injuries, she watched in a blank daze the frantic chaos as people were brought in on repulse gurneys. They were the victims of a vicious act of gang violence that she'd failed to stop. Worse; that she'd helped to start, all because of her misguided attachment to the wrong person.

Her Master had been right.

She fought with her attachment, struggling to keep it in check. She tried to stay objective, as a good Jedi should, and focus on the millions of unknown faces that she was helping in the long run, not the faces that she could see right in front of her, people with real troubles that she could do something about. But Edrasi Nyine had not been designed to be solitary or detached. She was a passionate being with a knack for understanding others. She had a strong connection to the Living Force, and that connection proved to be irresistible.

With age comes understanding and acceptance. Edi found a balance within herself between the Jedi ideals and her own undeniable need to have an intimate connection with another being. Many Jedi, even those she had considered her friends, saw danger in her chosen path and distanced themselves from her. That hurt. But Edi was following her own path now, one that the Force had laid before her, and she would not turn from it. Attachment was her greatest weakness. It was also her greatest strength.

Edi was thirty-two when the Clone Wars began. Like all the Jedi, she was given an automatic military enlistment and the rank of general. She was given troops to lead into battle, as Jedi had done once over a thousand years ago during the Great Sith Wars, back when they'd been the Army of Light and there had been Jedi Lords. But this was different. These soldiers that she'd been given to lead were not volunteers. They hadn't signed up to fight, they'd been _made_ to fight. Designed to fight. These clones, these _men_, were nothing more than convenient cannon fodder for the elected representatives to send out to fight and die, rather than the husbands, wives, and children of their voting constituents. That sort of thing made it hard to get reelected.

And despite all that, the clones never complained. They were all so loyal and brave and kind that it almost broke Edi. They deserved so much better.

It was with these men, ones that everyone else in the galaxy threw aside as expendable, that she found her first true acceptance. The clones understood the instinctive, primal _need_ to be there for each other. They shared a deep connection, a sense of belonging that Edi barely remembered from her childhood among her clanmates. She hadn't realized, after all those years of being alone, just how much she wanted it. And they gave it to her freely, taking her in and making her one of them, a sister. She loved them all so much; Thorn's calm, Shmolt's prickliness, Techie's exuberance, Shades's protectiveness. They would die for her and she for them without a second thought.

She had a family again.

Now the base was under attack. As the general, it was her duty to report to the command center and take charge of the counter offensive. If she were a proper Jedi, she would do her duty.

But her men were hurt. She couldn't turn her back on them.

Edi pulled out her comlink. "Thorn, report. Are you okay? This is General Nyine. Where are you?" There was a moment of static and her stomach dropped. _Not Thorn_. Then an answer came.

"Thorn here, General. I'm okay. We took a missile to the front entrance. Luckily no one was nearby. There was more damage done by the shock wave; the mess hall took a bad beating and a lot of our boys were in there. I'm almost to the command center. Shmolt's already there."

"Good," said Edi. "I'll be there as quick as I can. Nyine out." Comlink clutched in her hand, she sprinted down the dust filled hall, easily dodging falling bits of debris. She extended her senses, trying to get an accurate idea of what was happening, but the Force was a mire of dark eddies, too murky to get a clear picture. All she could feel was a muddle of pain, confusion, anger, and betrayal. It made her stomach churn.

Her comm went off again. Raising it to her mouth as she ran, Edi panted, "Nyine here."

"Edi…"

The voice brought it up short. "Shades, is that you?"

"Yeah… what happened?"

For the first time Edi felt fear in the pit of her stomach. He sounded dazed, confused. He didn't sound like Shades, not her Shades. She did her best to answer his questions and asked him desperately if he was okay. He ignored her. He never ignored her.

"What happened to the perimeter defense systems? We're supposed to be secure here." He sounded bewildered. There was an edge of desperation to his voice, a plea for her to make everything all right. Her heart clenched. She told him what she'd been told by the base security team, then finished with, "Where are you?"

_Please, let him answer._

"Mess hall." The mess hall? But that was…

_Oh, Force, let him be okay._

"Hurry. It's pretty bad." She could hear the beginnings of panic in his voice. Edi touched him through the Force, trying to impart some calm.

"I'll be right there." Even as she spun and began running in the opposite direction, Edi opened a channel to the command center. "Thorn, this is Edi. Change of plans, I'm not coming to the command center. I'm going to the mess hall."

There wasn't even a pause. "Okay, General. We can handle things here. Take care of the men. And be careful."

Edi smiled, touched almost to tears. "I'll do that, Captain. You take care of yourself, too. Nyine out." She shoved her comlink back into her pocket and ran.

The mess hall was in shambles. The doors were gone, blown completely away. Tables, chairs, and utensils were scattered across the floor. The place stank of blood and fear.

It took Edi a moment to find Shades; he was kneeling on the floor, head bowed, cradling one of his brothers in his arms. He looked up at her as she approached. His face was streaked with tears. A trickle of blood ran down the side of his face from his hairline. Other than that, he didn't seem to be hurt.

The look in his eyes froze her to the spot. They reminded her of her Master, cold and accusing.

_You were too late._

It was only then that Edi recognized the body in the sergeant's arms as Fib. Her own grief choked her.

Edi had liked Fib from his first day in Renegade. Something about him had intrigued her enough to look beyond his initial brusque rudeness. He'd impressed her with his skills as a medic and his devotion to his patients. Despite all their differences, she saw something familiar in him, something she almost recognized. Maybe she saw herself when she was first brought to the Temple, ripped away from her family. Maybe she saw herself when she'd struggled to find her way in an Order and a galaxy that always seemed to be against her. But whatever she saw, she knew that Fib was different, even among his brothers, who were all so different from each other. He was special.

Now he was gone.

Shades's eyes stayed on her as she sank to the ground next to him, then shifted back to the body in his arms. He didn't say a thing.

Edi stared at Fib's pale, tear-streaked face. There was dried blood on his lips and chin. She could see the shards of transparisteel in his back.

_I can't believe he's gone…_

She raised a hand, hesitated. Shades took no notice of her; he was entirely focused on his friend. Edi let her hand brush against Fib's limp one.

A faint whisper at the edges of her senses. She concentrated, trying to find the source. It was vaguely familiar, like one of her Jedi friends was trying to touch her from the other side of the galaxy. So far away…

Edi's eyes snapped open. When had she closed them? With sudden urgency, she grabbed Fib and dragged him toward her. Startled, Shades tightened his grip on the medic.

"What are you doing?"

Edi pulled harder. "He's still alive, Shades. Give him to me."

"No, I won't. You're lying. He's dead."

Edi was stung. He'd never accused her of lying to him before. He'd never disobeyed a direct order before. But she didn't have the time to explain, _Fib_ didn't have the time. "Just give him to me," she snapped and yanked the medic into her lap.

Edi cradled Fib there, head bowed low, in an imitation of the way Shades had been holding him. She pressed her palm to his forehead, fingers curling into his hair. Edi was not a natural healer. She had very little talent for it, beyond fixing the everyday sort of bumps and bruises. About the most she could manage was a pulled muscle. But she had to try.

Edi allowed herself to sink into the Force. Its raging waters closed over her head, and she reached out for Fib…

_PAIN!_ Bright lances of light biting through her back. It froze her lungs. Her heart stuttered in her chest. The pain was so strong; it formed a vortex of red and black that swallowed everything: movement, sensation, thought, light, life. Edi was sucked down into it, helpless to resist.

_There is emptiness. A profound emptiness that words cannot begin to convey._

Pain surrounded her again. But it was different this time.

_The sight of his body, broken and pale before me, is a knife slicing through my heart and lungs, the pain making the simple task of breathing impossible._

Her lungs constricted, her throat clogged with tears. Emotions pounded her from all sides, overwhelming her defenses. They drowned her.

_It could have been me that died. It should have been me. If I could do it all over again, I would insist on being the one to enter the building first. It would cost me my life, but it would be a price I would gladly pay, if only he could still be alive._

Anger.

_I choked on thin air as he groaned quietly and only pressed closer to me, causing me to bite back a cry. My eyes were burning. I pulled him closer and rubbed his back as he coughed again, blinking his bright brown eyes against the blood that had started caking on his face._

_ "Hey," he said quietly, voice rasping as he coughed a bit again. "You're safe," he added, body slackening just a bit more in relief as I felt his heartbeat pounding painfully slow and full in his chest._

Betrayal.

_"You idiot, " I choked out as I clutched him closer and fought down panic. "Just hold on. I'll make you better."_

Heartbreak.

_I couldn't save him. _

_I tried. With every fiber of my being, I tried. Everything else faded to a gray haze and the only things that existed were me and him and our slow, stuttering heartbeat. I didn't know what was happening, but it felt as if everything that I had, everything that I was, was draining out of me. I gave it gladly and poured it all into him. It wasn't enough._

_He died. Right there in my arms, he died. I _felt_ him die._

_"No," I whimpered. I wasn't sure how I felt or even if I felt. Maybe I felt everything. Maybe I felt nothing. I didn't know. I didn't. I tried to force the reality away as I shifted him in my arms. If only I could just move away from it. But I couldn't. I knew I couldn't._

_My world had ended. He was my world. But he didn't even know it. Now he never would know. I'd never been brave enough to tell him. Now I never could._

Self-loathing.

_I put my hand on his. I'm struck by the fact that it's cool. His skin was always, always warm. I take the hand I'm holding in both of mine, as though I can give him my warmth. But I can't. He's gone-forever. I will never see him smile again, never feel the press of his strong back against mine, never smell his scent of cool metal and warm rain. I will never be able to look into his beautiful, brown eyes, and know that here was another being who knew me. Knew me as well as I know myself, and who accepted and even loved me, even though I know I'm hard to like. I wish I could thank him for that, but now I will never get the chance. _

_ I open my mouth to say his name, but as I move my lips, no sound comes out._

Injustice.

_I was consumed by the mind-numbing silence that had enveloping me so completely._

_ This was war. Everyone felt some sort of pain, but I couldn't imagine anyone feeling anything more painful than what I was feeling right then. You couldn't feel anything that hurt more than losing your best friend. Your only real friend. The one person you loved more than anything. What hurt even more was the fact that I never told him._

Fear.

_Blood was pooling on the ground around him and I felt it soaking my knees where I was crouched. I didn't really care that I was getting covered in blood. I didn't care about anything besides him right then. I wondered if I ever really did care about anything besides him._

_ Because, after all, I loved him._

An aching loneliness.

_"Grayson." His name is a whisper on my lips. "Grayson . . . I'm so sorry." Sorry . . . sorry . . . _sorry_. _

_ I know he can't hear me, but at the moment I don't care. My voice breaks when I whisper, "I love you." Words he needed to hear. Words I never said. The tears start, and I make no effort to stop them. There is no one around to witness this. I am alone, not that I need a reminder of that, and, as I let the tears stream down my face, I know that this loneliness, like the regrets, is something I will have to face, every day, for the rest of my life._

A haunting wail of grief.

_I could have stopped this from happening. I didn't love him enough. I could have saved him. He could still be here._

_ I wasn't good enough. I deserve this._

Edi screamed with the pain, screamed until she couldn't hear herself anymore. It was a physical weight pressing down on her, forcing her beneath its surface. She sank…

And light enveloped her. It was _green_, green with life, green with…healing. Edi finally recognized what she'd felt for so long. The touch of a Force-gifted healer. But an untrained one, with no knowledge of his own powers or potential.

She saw where the green light was struggling to held back an insidious darkness that crept slowly forward, relentless. The light had the power to hold it back, but it didn't know how. It was acting on instinct. There was no Master to provide a hand of guidance.

So she provided it.

Edi took the light gently between her hands. It quivered, uncertain, and almost turned on her. She soothed it with her own pale purple light. Then, once the green light had calmed, she began to weave it together, adding her own strands of purple to strengthen it. The light learned quickly and was soon weaving itself, making itself into a barrier strong enough to hold back the creeping darkness.

Her work was done. Edi slowly untangled herself from the wall, though she left some purple strands behind. A sensation of rising filled her.

Edi blinked. Her muscles ached from being in one position for so long. Her legs had fallen asleep from the heavy weight resting on them. She looked down at Fib still in her lap. His breathing was shallow and rasping. But he _was_ breathing. His face was pale, but calm. Blood dripped sluggishly from partly closed gashes in his back where shrapnel had once been. The jagged pieces of metal lay on the floor in puddles of partially dried blood. Edi couldn't remember if she'd pulled them out or if they'd come out somehow on their own. She brushed Fib lightly with the Force. He was in a deep healing trance.

Raising her head, Edi met Shades's frightened gaze. She gave him a tired, reassuring smile. "It's all right, Shades. I'm all right. Fib's all right. We're both _all right_."

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><p><strong>Please review.<strong>

**mad'ika**


	9. Chapter 9

**I do not own Star Wars.**

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><p><em>All right. Everything's all right.<em>

If only that were true.

Edi sat in a meditative position, legs crossed and hands resting on her knees, taking deep breaths that eased air in and out of her lungs. Her knees felt cramped from pressing against the arms of the regrettably small chair that was positioned beside Fib's bed. Sounds from the rest of the medbay were muffled through the privacy curtain that Vern, the on-duty medic, had thoughtfully pulled shut. Fib lay quietly on the bed, arms resting on top of the neat covers pulled over his bandaged torso. His chest moved slowly, rising and falling in perfect sync with Edi's.

Things had quieted down after the initial panic of the attack. All the wounded clones had been moved to the medbay, which was more than large enough to accommodate them all. According to Gear, who had taken over as senior medic when Fib was injured, everyone who was going to die had died. Now all they had to do was see the others to a full recovery. Captain Thorn had left with a strike team and, with help from the Mareeb Security Force, was in the process of searching the area that the base security team had pinpointed as the location the missile had been launched from. He wouldn't be reporting in for two hours at least, so that left Edi with little to do but think.

There was a lot to think about.

A Force-sensitive clone. Now that the adrenaline rush had finally worn off and she was thinking clearly, Edi was having trouble wrapping her mind around the idea.

Intellectually, she knew that it shouldn't have been this much of a surprise. The Force worked in strange ways, which was just a way to say that nobody—not even Jedi—really understood what it was doing. Edi had only the basic knowledge that she'd learned in her classes at the Temple and her own experience to draw on.

The Force wasn't ruled by genes. Just because a parent was Force-sensitive didn't automatically mean that their child would be. It was virtually unheard of for siblings to be Force-sensitive. There were some families that the Force was strong in, but it tended to skip generations, often many at a time. Force-sensitivity could almost be viewed as a rare genetic mutation. It only showed up in about 0.02 percent of the entire galactic population.

So it wasn't such a farfetched idea that a clone could be Force-sensitive; he had the same chance as anyone else.

It wasn't so much the fact that Fib was a clone that was troubling Edi as the fact that she'd known him for months and hadn't _noticed_. Granted, finding untrained Force-sensitives wasn't one of her talents; they were harder to detect in the Force than someone who was trained. Still, realistically, she should have picked up some sort of hint that there was another Force-user nearby. Besides that, Fib was her friend, one of her boys, and she felt that she should have noticed something so important about him long before hand. Had she been somehow neglecting him?

_But you know why you didn't sense it_, whispered a small voice in the back of her mind, the one that sounded like Master Nivix. A shiver ran down Edi's spine. There was no denying that the Force was clouded, nothing like the pure clarity that she remembered from her childhood in the Temple. War, by its very nature, poured darkness into the Force, polluting it with greed and malevolence. It had clouded the Jedi's ability to see the future and, apparently, their ability to see what was right in front of them.

Edi glanced over at Fib, and then rested her hand lightly on his. She found the physical contact comforting, enabling her to feel his warmth and the soft pulse of blood in his veins. It also allowed her Force awareness to spread through his body and take stock of his physical condition. Edi was astonished by the rate of recovery that his body was undergoing; much of the surface damage was completely healed, while the internal damage was progressing quickly. It had only been ten hours since the attack and at this rate Edi guessed that Fib would be fully recovered in two days' time.

She was overcome by a sense of awe. Healing was one of the Force's rarest and most precious gifts. Many Jedi possessed some ability, at least enough to heal their own minor injuries. But to find someone with such a natural ability, not only to heal himself but possibly others, was rare indeed. It was a gift to be treasured, nurtured, and protected.

Just like that, a weight of dread settled on Edi's shoulders. Fib's gift was powerful indeed. He was a natural healer; she even suspected that he'd been using his gift unknowingly for some time. With that sort of raw, untapped power, what would happen if another Jedi sensed it? Worse, what if a Dark Force-user sensed it? There was always the possibility and Edi shuddered at the thought.

Then an even more terrible idea occurred to her, one of much more immediate danger. What if the Kaminoans found out? She could only imagine what the clone masters would give to get their hands on Fib's genome. Her body trembled at the idea of what they might do, what sort of experiments they might run, and what the end result would inevitably be. Kaminoans had no conscience, not where their products were concerned. She was under no illusions. Fib would most likely die as a result of his makers' insatiable curiosity. And it would all be to no avail. The Force could not be cloned. The few times it had been managed, the resulting clones had all gone insane.

No, everything was most definitely not _all right_.

It galled Edi that the reality of Fib's Force-sensitivity should arouse such trouble. This was something that should bring about happiness and joy, not worry and anguish. Once again, the war had poisoned something that was beautiful and made it into something ugly and heartbreaking.

A soft rustle roused Edi. She opened her eyes to see Shades standing uncertainly in the open curtain. He looked terrible, with dark bruises under bloodshot eyes and a gaunt face. Gesturing for him to enter, she stood and faced him.

Edi could feel the currents of uncertainty and conflict that surrounded the clone sergeant. The attack had shaken him, badly. It had shattered his reality and left it lying in pieces at his feet. Edi wished she could offer some sort of comfort, but she was afraid that if she offered to help him, he would blow up at her.

Shades met her eyes for a bare instant, then glanced away and focused on the man in the bed.

"How is he?"

Edi sighed softly. "He's recovering." She glanced at Shades's worried face. "He's going to be fine, Shades. He'll make a full recovery."

"How?"

"With the proper medical care and enough time—"

"That's not what I meant. How did he even survive?" He met Edi's eyes, looked right at her and into her. "What aren't you telling me?"

Edi met him stare for stare. His gaze was hot, almost burning. She hesitated…and felt instantly guilty. She'd never before felt the need to keep something from her men. But this _something_ was so far beyond their limited experience that they wouldn't know how to handle it. Even she didn't. And how would Fib, once he was awake? But in the end, it all came down to a simple question: did she trust Shades? Edi didn't even have to think about the answer. Yes, she trusted him, more than anyone. And he wasn't stupid. He'd been there. Shades wasn't a medic, but he'd had more than enough experience with injuries to know when something was fatal. Under any other circumstances, Fib would have died. And beyond all that, Shades was Fib's friend.

He had a right to know.

"The Force," she said quietly.

"You healed him?"

"No, I just showed him what to do. He's healing himself."

"…I don't understand."

She supposed it would be too much to expect Shades to immediately grasp something that was so beyond what he considered _normal_. "He's Force-sensitive, Shades. Like a Jedi."

Shades stared at her blankly, then looked slowly down at Fib. "Oh…so… right now he's…"

"I helped put him in a healing trance. It's a meditative state that will allow his body to focus on healing itself. He should be completely recovered in two days."

"Just two days?"

Edi nodded. "He has a remarkable talent for healing."

"Oh."

Shades hadn't taken his eyes off the other clone the whole time. He seemed to be having trouble absorbing everything. That was understandable. Edi put a gentle hand on his shoulder, silently offering support. He didn't shrug her off, but neither did he respond. Edi felt a pang of loss as she slowly lowered her hand. This was ridiculous, he was right there. He wasn't dead. But he wasn't acting like the Shades she knew, and that upset her.

"I'll give you some time alone. If you need anything…" She trailed off, unsure what to say.

Shades nodded distractedly. "I'll find you."

Edi was suddenly dangerously close to tears. "Exactly," she choked out, then slipped quickly through the curtains.

* * *

><p><em>He's a Force-sensitive. A Force-sensitive?<em>

Shades couldn't get the idea through his head. His mind hadn't been working right, ever since the attack. He seemed to be registering everything at a distance. A part of him understood that what he was doing was a coping mechanism. He needed it to just get through the day. That was fine with him. He didn't think he could handle being the old Shades right now.

_He's a Force-user. _Fib _is a Force-user._

He sank into the chair that Edi had so recently occupied. It was still warm.

Really, this explained a lot to Shades. Fib's amazing reflexes, for one. The way he nailed those commando droids back on Voss. How he won that ping pong match. Then there was the way the man could read people, even though he was so prickly and stand-offish that no one in their right mind would think that he had any sort of people skills. And the way he could touch people and take away pain. It was all the Force.

_Is it true what Edi said about Jedi feeling others' emotions? Can Fib feel those? Maybe that's why he's always pushing people away. It probably gets pretty overwhelming. Can he feel… death?_

Shades eyed Fib critically. He somehow expected the guy to look different, maybe glow or something. But he looked exactly the same, just a little paler than usual.

Right now, Fib was in something called a _healing trance_. Shades tried to imagine what was going on inside his brother's body and failed. It was all so beyond what he could understand. This was alien in a way that nothing else could be, because the strangeness had taken a form that Shades knew so well. Or thought he knew. He couldn't seem to wrap his mind around it.

But he did understand one thing.

_He has a remarkable talent for healing_. That's what Edi had said. She'd also said that Fib would be better in two days. _Two days_. Shades had seen how badly injured Fib was. By all rights, he should have died.

But he hadn't. Because he could _heal_.

An image of Slingshot came into Shades's mind. He was lying dead on a bed in medbay, covered in his own blood. He'd died from internal bleeding. Shades could hear Nex's sobs.

Next was an image of Nex, shot in the head by a commando droid on Voss. He'd never been the same after Slingshot died.

He remembered the eight brothers that had been lost on a scouting mission on Malrue. More than half had been Shinnies, fresh off Kamino and eager to prove themselves. They'd died trying.

He saw anew the mess hall in shambles. He saw Dax, the clone that had lost his leg when it was crushed. He saw the one that had been killed by a fork through the eye. He hadn't been able to recognize him because of all the blood.

Shades pressed his face into his hands, bracing his elbows on his knees. He was overwhelmed by memories of dead and dying brothers. Dead on the ground, dead in space, in the end it didn't matter, because they were all _dead_.

And Fib was alive.

_Why does he get to live? What makes him so special?_

Shades was angry. If Fib had this magical power to heal, then why didn't he use it? Why did Slingshot have to die? Why did Nex have to die? Why did any of them have to die? Fib could have fixed them; he could have saved them.

He felt cheated. Cheated for all the men that could have lived. They didn't have to die. Why hadn't Fib healed them? Why hadn't he done… something?

Shades became aware of someone looking at him. There was a prickling sensation at the base of his skull, caused by the short hairs there standing on end. The sergeant slowly raised his tired, bloodshot eyes.

Fib was half awake, looking at the other clone through half-lidded eyes. They looked black under the shadows cast by his eyelashes, not the familiar warm brown. The two stared at each other in silence.

Fib's eyes seemed overly bright in the dim, curtained-off cubical. He twitched, his hand moving weakly on the bed. His fingers extended, trying to reach a pleading hand out to his brother. His lips moved, forming words with no sound, but Shades understood.

_Sorry._

He walked away.

* * *

><p><strong>Please review.<strong>

**mad'ika**


	10. Chapter 10

**I do not own Star Wars.**

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><p>Edi lay spread eagled on her bunk, staring at the ceiling with defocused eyes. She wasn't aware of any of her physical surroundings, not her bunk, not the desk bolted to the floor, not her over-robe lying in a heap by the door. She was sunk deep in the Force, swimming amongst its currents. She could feel the base and her men within it in various states of boredom, alertness, and hunger; more distantly, she could feel the inhabitants of Mareeb, wary and resentful, and more clearly, because she knew them so well, Captain Thorn and the strike team, as intense and focused as aak dogs with a scent. But most clearly of all, she could sense Fib.<p>

Behind her unfocused eyes, his presence was a soft green light, pulsating gently. She could sense no more of that creeping darkness. It was gone. Edi smiled to herself and gently touched Fib's Force presence with her own. He was too deep in the healing trance to consciously respond, but his green light did shine a little more brightly for an instant.

It had been quite a while since Edi had interacted on this level with another Force-sensitive being. Her career as a Knight had been a rather solitary one and when the war started, she and every other able bodied Jedi had been sent out to fight. She loved her men, but sometimes she felt as though she were the only being with sight living within a community of the blind. She could say "Oh, look how blue the sky is," and they would not understand. And there was something special, almost intimate, about being able to touch someone so deeply without even being in the same room. Edi relished it.

She was jerked out of her reverie by a jarring sensation.

Fib was waking up.

_No, it's too early. He needs to stay in that trance for two more days. What woke him up?_

Edi squeezed her eyes shut to help herself concentrate. It turned out she didn't need to. The sudden spike of anguish she felt from his was so piercing, so heart-renching, that she cried out. Edi was out of her room before she'd even registered that her eyes were open, almost Force sprinting down the halls to the medbay. She was about to use the Force to force the doors open when they opened of their own volition and Shades strode out. Edi jumped back, just barely in time to keep from being plowed down. The clone sergeant didn't even see her. Accusation and resentment rolled off him like a poisoned cloud. It smacked Edi in the face and chest, and she coughed reflexively as Shades disappeared quickly down the hall. She hesitated for an instant, unsure of whether she should go after him, but the Force, pulsating with urgency, made up her mind for her. She entered medbay.

Edi walked quickly past a startled Vern, dodged around a clone hobbling by on crotches, and pushed her way through the curtains surrounding Fib's bed.

The medic's head was turned toward her on the pillow. His left arm was stretched out at his side, palm up, fingers extended, as though reaching for a saving hand that wasn't there. His eyes had been closed when Edi entered, but as she approached the bed, they fluttered partially opened and fixed on her. They had a distinctly glassy sheen, and as she watched, a single tear rolled down his pale cheek. A barely audible whimper slipped from Fib's parted lips.

Shades's anger, Fib's distress; Edi could easily put two and two together.

She walked over to the bed and settled on the edge. She whipped away the tear with a thumb while gently combing her fingers through his hair. "You had to wake up at the most painful moment, didn't you?" she whispered.

Keeping her left hand in his hair, Edi entwined her other hand with the one he'd reached out to Shades. She caressed him with the Force, bringing calm and easing him back into the healing trance. Fib's eyes slid closed and the hand she was holding gave hers a weak squeeze before relaxing. Edi smoothed his bangs back and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead.

The sound of her comlink going off startled Edi badly. She slid off the bed and moved to the side, raising her communication device to her mouth. "Nyine here."

"General, it's Thorn. We've found the hostiles. What are your orders? Do we neutralize them?"

Something cold twisted in Edi's gut. These were the beings that were responsible for the attack on her base. An unprovoked attack that had left many of her men wounded, and not just physically. They were cowards that didn't even have the courage to face their opponents in battle, so they hid and attacked from far away where they were in no danger themselves while her men were slaughtered. They didn't deserve a quick death.

"No, Captain," she said, an edge to her voice. "Bring them back here. I want to see them myself."

There was the briefest of hesitations, then Thorn answered, "Yes, sir. We'll be there in ten minutes. Thorn out."

* * *

><p>Captain Thorn had a bad feeling about this.<p>

The strike team pulled up in front of the base's ruined front section. Thorn hopped out of the patrol vehicle, watching where he put his feet so as not to slip on loose ruble, and gestured for his men to bring out the prisoners. General Nyine was waiting for them. Her face was hard and she stood with her arms folded tight across her chest. Every inch of her body language conveyed how angry she was. This wasn't the Edi that Thorn knew; there was no welcoming smile, no hand on his shoulder, only grim silence and tightly compressed lips.

The troopers lined the prisoners up in front of the general. There were four of them, two men and two women. They were all thin and dirty, obviously malnourished. The man who was the leader looked grim and resolute, but the others were plainly scared.

Edi stalked forward, arms now tight at her sides. She walked slowly down the line, stopping in front of each and staring into their eyes for several seconds before moving on. White gravel crunched under her boots. There was no other sound. Edi reached the end of the line, executed an about-face with military precision, and retraced her steps. She kept looking into the prisoners' eyes and never said a word.

Thorn was very aware of the heat of two of the suns beating down on him. He could feel sweat sliding down his back and prickling behind his ears. The climate controls in his armor didn't seem to be working, even though he had the AC in his helmet on at full blast. The captain felt dazzled by the bright light, almost hypnotized by the way it reflected off his brothers' white armor.

Choked sobs brought him back to the here and now. One of the women, who had long dark hair that hid part of her face, hung weakly in Ion's grip, her shoulders trembling. A moment later, a stifled shriek issued from the lighter-haired woman. She writhed in her guard's hold. He was struggling to keep his grip on her, twisting her arms up behind her back.

Thorn watched in growing unease. _What's going on?_

Edi paused in front of one of the men and held his eyes. His own grew slowly wide with terror, his mouth forming incoherent words. She moved on, but his eyes remained fixed on the place where she'd been. He didn't blink.

General Nyine finally stopped before the leader, tilting her chin slightly to meet his eyes. He seemed to be faring better than his partners, but his face was unnaturally pale. Thorn could see his legs trembling. Edi completely ignored the others, staring only at the leader. He wouldn't meet her eyes, but as Thorn watched, they seemed drawn to the Jedi's against their will. A low moan came from his lips and he fell heavily to his knees, his guard unable to hold him up. His body started shaking, then convulsing as though in a seizure. His eyes never left Edi's the whole time.

Realization suddenly coursed through Thorn, sending a shudder down his spine.

_She's in their minds._

This was wrong. Oh, Thorn didn't have any particular love toward Separatist sympathizers, especially those that didn't have the guts to confront him face-to-face in combat. And he had a real hatred for these people in particular, for attacking a GAR base without any provocation and killing his brothers. He would have gladly put his own gun to each of their heads and pulled the trigger. But this was wrong.

He remembered the terms of military engagement that he'd learned on Kamino. Republic soldiers did not cause unnecessary harm to prisoners. To do so would make them no better than the Seps. Prisoners were given a swift execution, a single blaster shot to the head.

What he was seeing wasn't a clean death. This was torture.

In the end, though, what pushed Thorn to speak wasn't horror over what he was witnessing, but worry for Edi. How would she ever be able to forgive herself if she carried this through to whatever horrible end that lay in wait?

"General Nyine. That's enough."

He hadn't shouted—he'd barely raised his voice—but Edi started as though he'd bellowed right in her ear. She finally seemed to register what she was doing. The leader collapsed completely to the ground, dragging his guard with him. A low, piteous moan issued from his lips. Edi flinched at the sound and took several hasty steps away before turning and walking quickly back toward the base.

Thorn watched her go, then raised his DC and stepped toward the prisoners. Time to finish this.

* * *

><p><em>I hate this place.<em>

Shades pulled his legs up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them and resting his chin on his armored knees. Two blistering suns beat down on where he sat on the base roof, his helmet sitting discarded next to his hunched body. A hot breeze ruffled his hair. The stretch of gravelly plain that he could see over the low wall around the edge of the roof blazed with white reflected light, a mirage shimmering in the air above it, hiding the horizon behind curtains of heat.

_I really hate this place._

His thoughts turned to Fib, lying in some magical healing trance in the medbay below. Healing his own wounds with some sort of Force voodoo while other men were forced to rely on slower, less certain methods. Resentment settled heavily on the clone's shoulders.

And yet, a small part of him rejected these feelings. That small part of him—his conscience, he suspected—squirmed in unease at the way he'd treated the injured medic. Guilt trickled down his spine.

_You shouldn't have done that_, a tiny voice whispered in the back of his mind. _You shouldn't have walked out on him._

Shades clenched his jaw. "He deserved it," he growled.

_No, he didn't._

"Yes, he did. He's had this Force healing thing since he was decanted and he's never used it to help any of his brothers. He gets a major shrapnel wound and he's better in two days, but us mortals die from those kinds of injuries. He doesn't care about his brothers."

_He's always done everything he could for them. He's worked himself to exhaustion to fix them and he blames himself when he fails. Don't be fooled by his I-don't-care attitude. He does care._

Shades pressed his forehead into his knees. "If he really cared, he'd have saved them. He could've healed them. He didn't."

_He's your brother._

"He's not my brother anymore."

The sound of hinges squeaking caught Shades's attention, and he raised his head to see Edi clambering through the maintenance hatch that led to the roof. She walked over and stood in front of him, blocking the suns and casting a cool shadow over his heated skin. Shades squinted up at her. She looked tired and angry and scared. Everyone was a mess lately.

"I know what happened," she said simply. Her hands were folded inside her sleeves, making her look more like a Jedi than the sergeant had seen her look in a while. There was something oddly contained in the way she was speaking, as though she were struggling to hold some emotion in. "How could you do that to him?"

Shades lowered his gaze. He didn't answer.

"I know you're hurting," Edi said quietly. "I know you feel cheated and angry and helpless. But believe me when I say that whatever you're feeling right now is _nothing_ compared to how Fib is feeling. He didn't know he was Force-sensitive. He found out only a little before you did. He's devastated, to say the least."

Shades didn't raise his eyes from her knees when he said, "He never used it to help his brothers. He could have saved so many of them, but he didn't."

Above him, Edi's eyes flared with a sudden fury. "You think he didn't _try_? What about Grayson?"

The sergeant's head snapped up in surprise at what he'd suspected was the name of Fib's dead brother, but he'd never been certain. How did Edi know? He'd been pretty sure that Fib had never told anyone else about that.

"I was in his mind, Shades. I saw what happened, and I felt it. I think that was the first time his gift actually woke up. He nearly killed himself trying to heal his brother. But the Force doesn't work like that." Now the anger faded from her eyes. She suddenly looked very old and very tired. "We're not born with a how-to manual built into our brains. There are some things we can do on instinct, but much of the Force has to be taught."

Edi looked up at Shades. "I'm going to teach him," she said quietly. "As much as I can. I don't know much about healing, but if I give him the basics, I think he's capable of figuring out the rest on his own."

Shades stared at her in silence. In his mind, he tried to come to terms with a clone that could use the Force like a Jedi. The very idea seemed contradictory and wrong; but since when had Fib ever fit any definition of _normal_? If anyone could pull it off, he could. But that didn't mean Shades liked it.

Edi seemed to read his mind in that way of hers. She tilted her head down to meet his gaze. Her eyes had gone cold and sad. "I won't let you hurt him again. I love you, Shades, but if your prejudice gets in the way, I'll have you transferred to another company. I need to put Fib first now, even over you. I'm sorry."

Shades stared at her in disbelief. Angry tears pricked at the corners of his eyes.

Edi lowered her chin to her chest. "Please don't make me do that. He needs you right now, more than ever. Don't let this push you apart."

Edi suddenly seemed to deflate. Shades stared at her. He could read signs of a deep regret in the down-turned corner of her mouth and the pinch of her eyebrows. She'd done something, and she bitterly wished that she hadn't.

"Trust me, Shades," she murmured as she turned to go. "Don't let your emotions force you into doing something you'll regret. There's no such thing as a second chance."

* * *

><p><strong>This is looking like it's going to be the second-to-last chapter. Don't worry, everything will be wrapped up in the next one. Please review.<strong>

**mad'ika**


	11. Chapter 11

**I do not own Star Wars.**

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><p>All things pass with time.<p>

Planets rotate. Suns burn out and new ones are born from their last fierce burst of glory. Wars rage and peace returns, only to retreat again before another conflict. The two hold each other in a tenuous balance, one rising, the other falling, as constant as the tides. Beings are born, grow old, and die. Love is found and lost and found again. Harsh words are traded, bitter regret felt on both sides.

And hearts mend.

On a small planet on the Outer Rim called Haashimut, a base was rebuilt and men healed. A sergeant wrestled with his feelings, slowly pushing his way up from dark depths to one day break the surface and feel the light of acceptance on his upturned face. A woman struggled with nightmares of an unforgettable deed, yet found consolation in the fact that her conscience plagued her, proof that she had not fallen as far as she had feared. A captain kept the peace, mediating arguments between his men—especially a particularly pricklish lieutenant—and quietly served as an anchoring force to those who needed one. A medic drifted in a state of uncertainty and loss, trying to comprehend what he had become and learn what it meant to be _himself_ again.

Men laughed and ate. They fought, trained, slept, and bickered. Battles were fought, and the suns shone down on the small world that circled within their gravitational embrace.

Two galactic powers struggled for dominance in a conflict that neither would win. The Jedi fought a battle to preserve what they saw as the only hope for civilization. Two Sith reveled in their deception, gleefully awaiting the day of their dawning revenge and the fall of their eternal enemy.

A Jedi taught a clone the deepest secrets of the Force, and in doing so, gave him back himself.

All things pass with time.

And the galaxy keeps spinning.

* * *

><p>Shades climbed slowly up the metal ladder. He relaxed in the cool darkness of the shaft, in no hurry to open the hatch and expose himself to the plant's burning heat.<p>

Apprehension filled him. He knew whom he'd find on the other side of the hatch, but he didn't know _what_. Shades had been avoiding Fib for two months. He'd kept himself busy, first with rebuilding the base and later with daily duties and patrols. Fib had been occupied, too, once he was healed—two days, just like Edi said. He was either in medbay hassling the other medics and berating patients for pulling stupid stunts or with Edi in her room.

The fact that the _female_ general and the medic were spending quite a bit of time together had not gone unnoticed by the rest of the company. Rumors abounded, from the stupid idea of arm wrestling to something a little more intimate. Captain Thorn kept the gossip to a reasonable limit and no one bother Edi about it. No one dared ask Fib.

Only Shades knew what was really going on and he never mentioned it.

And somewhere along the way, the resentment and anger that had plagued him changed to guilt and a longing for his brother's presence. He missed the casual intimacy that had once existed between them.

Watching Fib, Shades saw that his brother hadn't changed on the surface; he was still grumpy, rude, abrasive, and irreverent. He still terrorized his patients and mouthed off to his COs. But under all that, Shades could see something deeper. Fib seemed tired. He was twelve, the same age as the sergeant, and yet he seemed much older. But with these changes seemed to come wisdom and an odd sort of contentment that he'd found his place in the universe. Fib had made peace with himself and the ghost of his dead brother. He would never recover from the loss, but he seemed finally able to move on and start living again. Shades was sure that was what Grayson would have wanted.

Shades was ready to move on. He was tired of being angry with everything. He wanted some of the acceptance that his brother had found. And he wanted Fib.

With a deep breath, the clone sergeant pushed at the hatch above his head. There was slight resistance, then with a familiar squeak of hinges, the hatch swung open and light engulfed him. Shades clambered out onto the roof and looked.

This was the closest Haashimut ever came to _night_. Only one sun was in the sky, resting low on the horizon. Its usually white glare had been reduced to a dusky red radiance, much gentler on the eyes. The expanse of gravelly plain had been dyed a dark burgundy on the horizon—visible thanks to the absent heat shimmer—fading to pink on the base's doorstep. The usually scorching wind had died down to a warm breeze that felt downright cool. It was a beautiful sight.

_This place has its moments, I guess._

Shades didn't have to look far to find Fib. The medic was perched on the low wall encircling the edge of the roof. He sat with his back to the other man, legs crossed loosely and hands resting on his knees in imitation of the way Edi sat when she meditated. The breeze tugged on his fatigues and blew his red hair back from his face. He sat tall, back erect, in silence.

Shades's mouth went dry and words died in his throat. He felt as though he was intruding, and he didn't know what to say. What could he say, after what he'd done to the guy? Why would Fib want to talk to him, much less forgive him? He'd walked out on his brother when he'd needed him most. Worse, he'd used him as an easy target for his own uncontrollable emotions. Why would Fib ever want to see him again after that?

_What makes me think I deserve his forgiveness?_

Shades turned to go.

"You take one more step, and I'll throw you off the roof myself. And I won't put you back together."

A smile twitched at the corner of Shades's mouth, even as a chill ran down his spine. Fib had talked to him without looking at him before, but now Shades knew that the medic had sensed him with the Force. He wondered belatedly if he'd ever get used to his brother's new talents. But he desperately wanted a chance to.

He turned back and moved to stand just behind Fib. The other didn't turn. Shades paused, then responding to a silent invitation, sat on the wall next to the medic, his own legs dangling. They were so close that their shoulders were almost touching. The nearness filled Shades with a sense of lightness, almost giddiness.

He and Fib turned at the same time, their eyes meeting. The words that he couldn't find before rushed up, almost choking him in their hurry to get out. "I'm sorry, I was stupid, I know I hurt you and I shouldn't have done it, it's not your fault, I know you care, but I was confused and I blamed you and I shouldn't have, please forgive me."

He clamped his mouth shut forcibly and watched the other anxiously. Fib blinked. "That was a mouthful. You sure you got everything off your chest? I'd hate to think something went unsaid."

Shades blushed and looked down at his lap, his hands playing self-consciously with the hem of his fatigues. He knew the medic was being sarcastic, but he didn't think he could stand it if anything was left unsaid, even if it was something he'd never said to anyone before.

"I love you."

Now it was Fib's turn to blush. It was the first time Shades had ever seen the guy look flustered. He looked away, cleared his throat, then said in a slightly rough voice, "I know. Me too, by the way—love you, that is. And I forgive you, even though you're an idiot."

Shades was overcome by a feeling of such uplifting relief that he almost cried. He actually went to hug the medic before he saw Fib's truly freaked out expression and quickly controlled the urge. He seriously doubted either of them could stand much more sentimentality before someone ran away. At this point, he wasn't sure if it would be him or Fib.

The two sat in an awkwardly companionable silence, trying to gather what shreds of manly dignity they had left. The single sun sank halfway beneath the horizon, a semicircle of cool red glinting against a deep purple sky.

"You know," said Shades eventually, "I still think you cheated in that ping pong game. I haven't let you off the hook for that."

Fib made an exasperated noise and threw his hands in the air. "Oh, not this again. You _lost_. How long can you keep harping on the subject?"

"I think you'd be surprised how long I can keep this up for."

"You have no social life."

"I do too, you moron. I have vast social connections and many people who would gladly spend their few spare moments in my company."

"Says the guy who can't even win a simple ping pong match."

"That's because you cheated!"

The friendly bickering continued well into the night. The sun reduced to a mere red sliver and the faint glint of stars could be seen overhead.

* * *

><p><span>Sewer Walking<span>

You and me, we used to talk  
>Like a river underground, the sewer<br>Where we used to walk.  
>The hole at the end empties out to the pier<br>Where paper boats disappear.

Me, I try to send this note,  
>Float it like a paper boat,<br>But paper sinks and words are weak.  
>I try but I don't speak.<p>

Join together in the silent snow;  
>Turn our faces up to see<br>Not endless night, but day,  
>A pier,<br>And you and me, talking.

* * *

><p><strong>The end.<strong>

**I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thank you to everyone who reviewed, it was wonderful to hear from you. Now no one get excited, but...I may write a sequal. I won't promise anything because I'm starting college in two weeks, but I have some ideas, so the possibility is there. Just don't expect anything soon.**

**So, once more for old times sake, everyone PLEASE REVIEW!**

**(I heard the poem on an old TV show - can't remember the name - but I really liked it and it seemed to fit, so there you go.)**

**mad'ika**


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